


Corner of the World 43: On the Wall

by serafina20



Series: Corner of the World [47]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Episode Related, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 12:56:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serafina20/pseuds/serafina20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark's destiny is written on the wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corner of the World 43: On the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during Skinwalkers. If you think the summary is bad, you should try watching the episode.

Even had the symbols not been blatantly painted on the walls, and even had the octagon not been there, Clark wouldn't have been able to miss the distinct alien feeling in the caves. The moment he fell in, the feeling took over. _The_ feeling. _That_ feeling, the one that started in his stomach and spread out through him until all his muscles had turned to jelly. The one that told him that he was home.

It went quickly. One minute, Clark was racing Pete on his dirt bike, feeling free and happy for the first time in weeks. The smile came easily to his face and he felt ... normal. Not like Ryan had never happened of course, because he'd always carry that inside him, but like .... Like someone had given him permission to laugh and be happy again.

It felt good.

And then, he was tumbling head over heels off the bike and through the earth. He slammed into the solid ground hard, air whooshing from his lung. Dirt sprinkled from the hole in the ceiling over his face, making his vision go fuzzy.

He had about one second to realize that his muscles were relaxing and stomach softening when Hurricane Pretty Girl descended on him.

"Lana?" he asked, blinking at the light that was being shined in his eyes.

"Don't move," the girl said, kneeling beside him.

He shook his head, trying to get the dirt from his eyes. "I'm fine."

"You're in shock. You fell over a hundred feet." Then she ripped his shirt open.

Clark started, arms automatically yanking his shirt back over his chest. "What are you doing?" he demanded. But, as the words left his mouth, he realized something: he didn't feel threatened. He didn't even feel uncomfortable or embarrassed or freaked or anything.

He blinked and sat up, allowing his shirt to fall open.

Immediately, the girl reached out, a look of shock on her face. Her hand smoothed over Clark's chest, caressing him gently.

Tingles washed over Clark's skin wherever she touched, and Clark's eyes fell shut. Everything felt so ... good. Mellow. Easy. Even sitting half naked in front of a stranger didn't bother him, because he knew he was ...

A jolt of terror went through him that had nothing to do this girl. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, it was like lying on top of the space ship. Exactly like it, the warmth and light and ... familiarity was all there.

The girl was looking at him through wide eyes. "You don't even have a scratch on you," she said, her voice dark and rich.

"Just lucky, I guess," he said uncomfortably. He bunched his shirt tighter together in front of him and looked around.

"That's some incredible luck," the girl said doubtfully.

Clark nodded, looking around. Nothing looked familiar. At least, not alien, at any rate. So why ....

"Where did you come from?" he asked, turning back to the girl. Maybe _she_ was the alien, and that's why he felt so relaxed.

"I was just over there doing research for my grandfather," she said, pointing at the entrance of the cave. "The landslide must've opened up that wall."

Clark frowned and looked around again. It looked like a cave. Not ... artificial in anyway, and yet there was a quality. A ... something that proclaimed it's alien nature loudly to Clark. "I didn't even know there were caves down here."

"If Luthor Corp has its way, there won't be anymore." She cocked her head and smiled almost shyly at him. "I'm Kyla, by the way."

"Clark." He stood and helped her up. "Clark Kent," he added for clarification.

She smiled. "The invincible Clark Kent, apparently."

"Uh, yeah." He blushed and tried to step away from her, but she held onto his hand.

"Hey, Clark!" Pete shouted down through the hole. "You down there?"

"Yeah, Pete!"

"Hey, man, you gonna need some help or can you jump your way out?"

Clark winced and gave Kyla a wan smile. "Very funny Pete. I've got company." He shook his head. "He's got a weird sense of humor."

"I see that," she laughed.

"Okay, man, as long as you're all right," Pete called, but Clark's attention was on Kyla, whose eyes had gone wide.

"Oh my God," she gasped, dropping his hand. She picked up her flashlight and shined it on the wall behind Clark.

"What is it?"

"It's the legend of Naman. My ancestors have passed down this story for generations." She walked past him and touched the wall reverently. "They said it had been written in the earth long ago, but nobody ever knew where it was until now." Kyla turned to him, happiness evident in her expression. "Thank you."

"Uh, you're welcome."

"No, you don't understand. My grandfather has been searching for this wall his entire life." She touched the wall reverently and her light fell on the painting of a man. He looked as if he were falling, tumbling head over heel. "They say that Naman will come from the sky. He will have the strength of ten men and be able to shoot fire from his eyes." She pointed the flashlight on another picture. "It probably sounds silly."

But it didn't to Clark. Because he was beginning to understand why he was so at ease here. Because interspersed among the paintings were symbols and those symbols resonated inside Clark, just like the key had the first day his dad had put it in his hands. Just like touching ship did. Just like ...

"Not to me," he said softly. He touched the wall and closed his eyes.

There it was again. That feeling. His breath slowed and his muscles relaxed. He was home.

Kyla stepped up beside him and put her hand on his back. "Come on. I want to go tell my grandfather what I found."

Clark opened his eyes again and allowed himself to be pulled away from the wall. He felt as if he was floating. "Yeah, okay." He followed her as she pulled him to the entrance of the cave, stopping only once and then briefly.

There was an octagon cut into the wall. An octagon that Clark bet was the exact size and shape of the key to his ship.

* * *

One of the hardest things in the world was being face with your parents' mortality. Seeing them weak or sick or injured .... It shook you. Made you realize that the world wasn't a safe place and your parents weren't the invincible beings you wanted them to be.

It was a frightening feeling, and exactly the feeling that Lex got when he looked at Damien. Damien, who for almost three years had been the backbone of Lex's life. He'd been steady when Lex wavered, strong when he was falling apart. Damien had been the only constant source of support in Lex's life until Clark, and to see him injured was soul quaking.

Damien's leg was out of traction, but still in a cast. Currently, he was lying in bed, laptop open and on the tray in front of him, eyes closed. He was snoring softly and looked exhausted.

Lex stepped softly inside and took the seat next to the bed. Damien didn't seem to sleep long these days, and Lex had nothing else to do.

After about ten minutes, Damien stirred. He groaned softly, rubbed his eyes, and then glanced over at Lex. "Sir, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. We weren't doing anything."

He blinked and rubbed his eyes again. When he dropped his hand, he looked more awake. "No. Of course, I didn't ..." Damien found the wand that controlled the bed and raised the head so he was more upright. "Sometimes, it's hard to keep track." He picked up a glass half-filled with water and took a sip.

"I understand. But you know I have no complaints about your work lately, don't you?"

"Of course," he replied in a neutral tone.

Lex narrowed his eyes. "Because you're doing fine. Anything I ask you to do, you get done."

"After an inordinate amount of time. Which is why you never give me anything important."

"No. I don't give you anything _pressing_ because I want to accommodate you. But it's still important. I need the work done, and you get it done."

"Sir ..."

"Damien," Lex interrupted, voice diamond hard. "What is going on? What is this?" He handed the e-mail he'd printed out just a half hour before.

Damien glanced at the paper, and then turned his eyes to Lex. "It's a list of people I feel would make competent assistants for you."

"I already have an assistant."

"No, what you have is a former assistant who is currently unable to perform his job to any reasonable satisfaction or competence."

"That's not true."

"It is, Lex," Damien said softly.

A chill went through Lex and he stilled. Damien almost _never_ called him by his first name, especially since Lex had stopped using him like a fucktoy. He'd maintained that very formal, very politely distant air at all times, only breaking once or twice. That formality grounded Lex, kept him calm and focused.

For Damien to break it now ....

Lex shivered and shut up.

Damien smiled softly as if to reassure Lex. "I'm not resigning, Lex. I'm not saying I want to quit, or think I will never be able to perform my duties again. Although, I must admit, right now I am having problems keeping faith." He sighed and shook his head. "I think this is the best course. Hire someone else and keep him or her on until I can resume my full duties."

"But ..."

"No. I don't .... The doctor mentioned something about the possibility of another surgery, and since its winter, I have to worry about pneumonia, and after the two respiratory infections, it's quite likely I'll have problems. You know what it is like. I can do a limited portion of my duties right now; what happens if I get sick?" He gazed into Lex's eyes and said, "I want to make sure you're taken care of."

The intensity was too much. Sometimes it was easy to forget how highly Damien thought of him. Lex wanted to forget. It was good to know, but the fierceness with which he was devoted to his duties, the drive that pushed him to make Lex succeed in dreams that were only half realized in Lex's own mind was terrifying.

The weight of Damien's world rested on Lex's shoulders, and he felt so ... unequal to the task.

Lex had to look away. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to remember how to breathe. His lungs were tight and burning already, since the weather had taken an abrupt turn into skin-cracking dryness, and this sudden added stress was not helping.

He took out his inhaler and used it.

"What's the matter?"

"It's too dry," Lex lied, looking back. He avoided Damien's eyes, though. "My lungs hurt."

"Do you want me to call Dr. Sutton?"

He shook his head. "If it still hurts tomorrow, then yes, otherwise, I'm okay." He exhaled slowly and then forced himself to look at Damien steadily. "Look. I ... I don't want another assistant. I want you. I mean, God. Look how long it took me to get used to you."

"You'll get used to someone else."

"No, I won't," Lex insisted, frustration rising. "Damien. You know what I was like when we first met. I was a mess. I think I was high."

"You were," he confirmed. "It was quite an unimpressive sight."

"To say the least." Lex shrugged. "I was constantly on drugs. I was dealing. I was .... I was doing my best to forget who I was. Forget who my father was and, well." He took a deep breath. "I wanted to die."

He didn't know if he'd been trying to shock Damien, but he if that had been his intention, he failed. Damien couldn't be shocked. And, besides, he'd known. He always knew.

Lex sighed and shook his head. "I wanted so badly for everything to go away, and then I got so sick. Dad freaked and pulled me out of the hellhole I was living in and gave you to me. And ... I didn't like you. I thought you were some plot on Dad's part, but you were so ... steady and unflappable, that." He stopped talking and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I think you were the first stable thing in my life since Pamela left. And I needed that. Needed you." He swallowed hard, ears hot. "It only works because I trust you. All of this. Everything. You ... know. What I need and that's terrifying, but I'm used to it. Used to you. I can't ... start over with someone new. I'd rather not have anyone. Struggle along myself." He swallowed again. "I respect you so much. And, uh, I look up to you." His cheeks flamed. "You probably didn't know that."

"I know, Lex," Damien whispered. "Thank you."

Lex didn't answer. He couldn't. Squeezing his eyes shut, he whispered, "Don't."

Damien exhaled slowly. The bed squeaked, and then Damien's hand was resting on his. And Lex didn't flinch or stiffen or react.

"I'm not asking you to replace me. I'm asking you to think about your corporation."

"I am." He opened his eyes. "And I know what is best for LexCorp is not hiring someone else for your position. I have help. I have subordinates. I have people I can delegate tasks to in order to get them done. I don't have anyone I can trust to take care of me. Or to protect Clark. I can't do that. Trust anyone. It has to be you."

Damien looked at him and nodded. "I'm afraid that you will be overwhelmed."

"I'm doing my best not to be." He turned his hand over and pressed his fingertips briefly into Damien's hand before pulling it away. "But I need to know ... was this really about you worrying about me? You said something about losing faith."

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

Damien nodded. "Yes, I'm sure, sir."

Back to sir. That meant share time was over.

Lex nodded and smiled gently. "Don't scare me like this again, Damien, okay?" he said crumpling the paper into a ball.

"I promise, sir," Damien replied, taking the paper from Lex. He aimed and tossed it across the room towards the waste basket. It landed neatly inside, and Damien turned back to Lex. "It will never happen again."

* * *

"Excuse me, miss?" the stranger leaning against the counter said as Lana passed.

She turned with a smile on her face. "Can I help you?"

"I need a refill." He held out his empty cup. It was to-go, and Lana was really beginning to get annoyed at this guy.

"Sir, I'm going to remind you again that you can only get the refill price if you have a for-here mug. This is to-go, so I'm going to have to charge you for a whole new drink."

"Fine."

"May I get you mug instead of this?" She took the empty paper cup from him.

He checked his watch. "No thank you. I'm probably not going to stay long."

She bared her teeth at him in an imitation of a smile and turned. Her smile melted away as she returned to the counter, and she seriously considered kicking this jerk out.

Chloe smiled at her in sympathy as she passed. "Don't worry," she said softly, putting her hand on Lana's shoulder. "He'll split as soon as Lex gets here, just like he did last week."

"Why am I letting him stay? Why? Lex told me just to kick him out if he came again if I wanted, so why?"

"Because he's a good tipper," Theresa said as she passed.

Lana nodded. "Oh, right." Then she looked at Chloe. "Please talk to him?"

Chloe wrinkled her nose in distaste and looked the man over. "Do I have to?" she whined. "He's a reporter for the Globe, for God's sake. The same paper that printed, 'Bigfoot Marries President in a Secret Wedding.'"

"Please?"

With a deep, heavy sigh, Chloe slipped off the stool and made her way over to the reporter. "Hey," she said. She climbed onto the seat next to him, swinging her legs. "So, like, are you, like, really a reporter?" Then she winced, as did Lana; Chloe did stupid _really_ badly.

"How did you know?" he asked suspiciously.

"Mr. Luthor told my dad about you, and then Dad told me," Chloe replied. "I want to be a reporter."

"Oh?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yup. In fact, I'm the editor for the school newspaper and everything."

He turned to her, suddenly looking interested. "You work for the school newspaper?"

"Editor in chief," Chloe said proudly.

"So you know the boy who wrote this." He pulled a battered paper from his briefcase and set it on the counter. Then he tapped an article.

Chloe leaned over it and scanned. "Clark Kent? Sure I know him. He's my best friend."

"Really?" He seemed predatory suddenly. "What's he like?"

"Why?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why do you want to know what he's like?"

Lana poured the man a cup of coffee and walked over to them. The article he'd pointed to was the one on being adopted that Clark had written back when Rachel was in town. It'd taken a week of Mr. Townsend and Chloe needling him to publish it in the Torch. He'd claimed it wasn't Torch material, but Chloe had pointed out that it'd be good advertisement for the literary magazine.

Lana looked up at the reporter. "He's a good writer," she said.

"Yes, I know. I was sent to do an article on the football team, but when I read the Torch, I was caught by this kid's writing."

"Clark started a literary magazine at our school," Chloe said helpfully. "You should talk to Mr. Reynolds to see if you can interview the literary club about it."

"Uh, that's really not the kind of story my readers are interested in. I'm more interested in things like, why does this kid have a girl for a best friend? What prompted him to write this article? What's his relationship with Lex Luthor?"

"What does his relationship with any of us have to do with his writing? I mean, okay, I'll give you the question about the article, but the rest is pretty superfluous."

The reporter arched an eyebrow. "Superfluous?"

"Yeah. Like added or unnecessary." Chloe smiled smugly, dropping the thinly acted charade. "What's the point?"

"The point ... is I'm trying to develop a more ... complete picture of this kid."

"Again, why? He's a good writer, but not interesting enough for an article in the Globe. Which, if I recall, actually specializes in creating scandals where none exist, and is already embroiled a libel lawsuit." She leaned forward, a smirk on her lips. "So. Tell me again. Why are you asking about Clark?"

The reporter smiled tightly and looked at Lana. "I guess I'll be putting that to-go cup to work."

"Don't come back," Lana said as she slid the cup to him.

"Right." He grabbed his briefcase and left.

Lana turned to Chloe, smile. "You're a bad dumb blonde."

"Yeah, I know. I try, though." She rubbed a hand through her hair. "It's not natural. That's the problem."

"Funny. I always thought that the unnatural ones were the ones who were the dumbest."

Chloe stuck her tongue out at her.

"Careful. I might try to take that," Lana said with a flirty smile. Then she indicated to the front of the Talon. "Your boyfriend's here."

Chloe turned. A grin crossed her face when Chad waved to her, and she waved back. "Okay. Call me if you need me to get rid of any more reporters. I'm only a few tables away." She rose and went to Chad, kissing him deeply when she did.

As Lana watched them kiss, she sighed wistfully and said, "Yeah. A few tables, but still really, _really_ far away." Then, tearing her eyes away from them, she went back to work.

* * *

"Lex, _please_ come now," Clark whispered desperately into his phone. "Please, I need you, come."

"Clark?" Kyla's voice sailed down from the loft. "Are you coming up?"

"Now," he ordered before closing the connection. He looked up at the loft, took a deep breath, and then jogged up the stairs. "Sorry. I'm trying to get a hold of a friend."

Kyla was leaning against the window, moonlight streaming over her. Her eyes were dark and mysterious, and, again, Clark felt an inner ^pull^ to her. It wasn't anything supernatual, although with the weird feeling from the caves still clinging to him, it almost felt mystical.

He shook it off. It wasn't. It was only attraction.

It'd just been so long since he'd been attracted to a girl, it almost felt mystical.

"You like astronomy?" Kyla said, resting her hand on his telescope.

"Yeah. Here, let me show you." He walked up to it and took the cap off. It took a few seconds of fine tuning, but he finally got a beautiful patch of stars in its lens.

For a moment, he just gazed at it, awe overtaking him. It'd been awhile since he'd gazed at the stars like this. When he'd first found out about himself, it had hurt too much and been too frightening. Then, he'd been so wrapped up in life, he'd forgotten the joy he used to feel standing over his telescope and gazing at the stars. But now ...

"Do you want to look?" he asked after a moment, tearing himself away.

Kyla turned to the window and gazed outside. "I kinda prefer to see it with my own eyes." She leaned back against him.

Clark swallowed. "So, uh ... So these legends, you don't think that they're like Venus and Apollo and all the other myths?" he asked, because he really need something to distract him from her warm body and the way her ass curved into his hips.

"Just because something's a myth doesn't make it not true."

And that had to be about the stupidest thing he'd ever heard, but she was holding his hand now and pointing to the sky. "Do you see the bright one right there? If you follow the stars around it, it makes the shape of a wolf's head." She lowered their hands to the ledge and covered his hand with hers.

Clark's heart pounded.

"See how one of the eyes is missing? Our ancestors say that there used to be a star there. That's where Naman came from."

"And what happened to it?" Clark asked, voice hoarse. He knew she didn't have the answers. She couldn't. It was impossible.

And yet ...

She turned in his arms and gazed at him. "You tell me. You're the one who fell from the sky."

An terrible sadness welled up inside Clark. Because he knew they were dead. Everyone. Tok and Sheal. Their parents. Friends. Brothers and sisters, enemies, lovers, whatever. All ... dead, and there was only Clark and ...

A blur of pink appeared in the corner of Clark's eyes, and he turned. "Lana."

Lana looked uncomfortable and more than a little spooked. "Your message sounded urgent, so I just came over. I didn't realize you had company."

He forced himself to smile and act as if everything was okay. "Lana, this is Kyla."

"Hi." The spooked expression stayed, but her smile was real enough. "I don't think I've seen you at school before."

Kyla seemed so much more grown up than Lana. The way she held herself and smiled. Her confidence as she replied, "Oh, I go to Grandville. I'm just here doing research for my grandfather and rescuing any guys that happen to fall into my life." She touched his stomach playfully.

It clenched and twisted. Somehow, she wasn't as attractive as she'd been moments before.

"How did you two meet?" Lana asked, still polite and edging towards comfortable.

"In these caves, under the new LuthorCorp site," Clark answered, wishing Lex would come. "That's actually why I called you. If this new LuthorCorp complex goes ahead, the caves will be destroyed, along with ancient paintings that Kyla's ancestors drew."

"They're our only link to the past."

"Defending a good cause sounds like something Henry Small might be into."

Lana grimaced. "Uh, we're not exactly at the father-daughter favor stage yet. But I'll ask him anyway. "

"Thank you, Lana," Kyla said.

"No problem. I ..."

"Kyla?" Joseph called from the bottom of the stairs. "It's time to go."

"I'm coming." Kyla turned, hand on Clark's chest. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

He nodded. "Definitely."

Her smile was blinding, and she kissed him on the cheek before dashing off. "Night!"

"Night," Lana called after her. She turned and watched Kyla run down the stairs. When she turned back, she had a wry smile on her face. "That girl is gorgeous."

"Want her? She's yours." Clark offered, stomach twisting. He crossed the room to the couch and flopped onto it. "God, where the hell is Lex?" he groaned, covering his face.

Lana's shoes made soft taps on the floor as she crossed to him. "At the Talon, supervising the new night manager."

He peeked through his fingers. "I thought you were the night manager."

"My grades dipped, so I'm only going to manage on the weekends. The rest of the week, I work four to eight, and then go home and do my homework." Hesitantly, she sat next to him. She made an abortive attempt to touch him before folding her hands in her lap. "Except when my friends need me. Are you okay?"

He nodded, trying to ignore the fact that he seemed to be trembling. "I'm fine. Why?"

"You seem, I don't know. Freaked."

So much for hiding it. Clark dropped his hands and exhaled slowly. He didn't want to talk, so he deflected by saying, "I could say the same thing about you."

The look that crossed Lana's face was somewhere between guilt and frustration. But she merely nodded and said, "Yeah. Maybe a little." Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip. "I'll tell if you tell."

Crap. But, then, maybe. He was being stupid, right? This wasn't a big deal, and he was just weirded out so ... "Okay," Clark sighed. "Me first?"

"Please."

He rubbed his eyes. "I'm just feeling weird right now. With Kyla. She's pretty and nice and I like her. I'm even a little, you know." Clark swallowed. "Attracted to her." In some strange almost platonic way that had him envisioning them in the caves together, naked but not touching as they looked at each other. Or her body against his, spooning, her body's curves settling against him like a puzzle. But not sex. His mind refused to go there, and his body remained unimpressed by even the idea.

Clark shook his head and said, "It's been awhile since I've been attracted to a girl. And Kyla ... likes me back."

"And that scares you?"

"Not exactly. I'm just confused about a lot of stuff right now. And it would have been more helpful if Lex had been in the caves when I fell through instead of Kyla."

Lana sat next to him. "Are you afraid of cheating on Lex?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Not at all. I ..." I'm all freaked out because of the caves, but he couldn't tell her that. "I'll never cheat on Lex. I don't even like her that much. I'm just ... getting used to the idea that I'm gay-not-bi, and having this thrown into it is confusing." Clark smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "I'm probably thinking to much."

"I think you are. I think it's perfectly possible to be attracted to someone and not have it ... be weird." Her cheeks flared red. "When I was with Whitney, at the beginning of school last year, and I noticed you for the first time, I kind of freaked. I felt so guilty for my attraction, but then it faded in intensity, and I realized that, even though you're so cute, what I felt for you was friendship. So hang on with Kyla; it'll get less weird."

Clark's cheeks were flaming and he couldn't help but ask, "You think I'm cute?"

"Didn't we already go through this once this year already?" Lana asked with an embarrassed laugh. "Yes, I think you're cute. I was tempted to go to Homecoming with you, even though I was with Whitney. And I had a huge crush on you at the beginning of this school year." Her cheeks were bright pink.

"Sorry. I didn't forget, but ..." He touched the back of her hand and smiled sheepishly.

"It's okay."

"Thank you. For what you said. I feel better."

"Good. I don't want you to feel guilty or upset. You're only human, and it only makes sense that you're attracted to someone."

A morose blanket covered Clark, but he only said, "Yeah. You're right. So, uh, what about you?"

She obviously didn't like that he wouldn't elucidate, but she shrugged and seemed to move on. "It's ... It's about Chad."

"What about him?" Clark asked warily, wondering if this was angst and drama about Chloe dating Chad. Things had been going well with the new arrangement, and Clark really wasn't interested in hearing Lana's angst about this. Not now. The thing was, he liked Chad, and he liked Chloe with Chad ... sort of.

Lana squeezed her eyes shut. "When he was having coffee with Chloe earlier, I saw that .... His shirt rode up in the back, you know? I wasn't looking. Not really. But there was this bruise, and it was so dark and ugly and it went all around the side to his front. And he seemed to be breathing funny, too, and walking weird. Stiff." She opened her eyes and looked at Clark. "It scared me."

Oh, good. Real problems, not romantic. They weren't pleasant, but something like this--someone being hurt--was a lot easier for Clark to deal with than bruised feelings. "Did you say anything?"

"I didn't know what to say. It made me uncomfortable because I knew I wasn't supposed to see it. But then it got me thinking. This isn't the first time I've seen him hurt like this. He had that bump on his neck last Friday. And his hand was hurt awhile ago, too. And his wrist."

"Then he had that cut on his forehead a couple weeks ago," Clark remembered. "And the black eye. A few of them." He looked at Lana. "Do you think it's his parents?"

"I don't know. They both seem so nice. And supportive. I mean, they freaked when he started wearing make-up, but I haven't heard of any problems since then. And that was seventh grade." She looked at Clark through huge eyes. "There's more."

Clark's stomach tightened. "What?"

"His shirt sleeves rode up a little bit when he came to get their drinks. And you know how he wears those cuffs? One of them wasn't on right, and it slid down. And I saw ... I saw these cuts. Or something. Marks. All over his wrists and up his arm, under the sleeves." She bit her lip, trembling.

Oh, _wow_. That was bad. Really bad. If Chad was doing it himself ... if he was hurting himself ...

Fuck. Clark couldn't deal with this. He wasn't strong enough.

He leaned against the couch. "This isn't good," Clark said. "I don't know .... The bruises make me think someone's hurting him. The cuts make me think ..."

"He's hurting himself," Lana said softly. When Clark looked at her, she flushed and looked away. "I had this girlfriend once, in sixth grade. She used to poke herself in the back of her hand with a fork. Anytime someone teased her, she would do it. And then, when her parents got divorced, she started pulling her hair out. I finally told Nell, because she was scaring me, and Nell had me go to the school counselor. She told me about self-injury and stuff, and how it was scary, but I did a good thing to tell them. So, uh, I've seen it happen before."

"Do you think we should talk to Chloe?"

"I don't know. It might help, but I think she might get angry at us for trying to butt in. Or being nosy."

"No," Clark said. "I think if we both sat down with her, she'd listen. But, actually, I'm not sure that's the best thing to do. Because Chloe would want to help Chad, and she's so ... direct. Which might scare him, and if she tries to be subtle ...." Clark shuddered, remembering Chloe's "subtle" attempts to get him to talk about what Lionel had done last spring. "She's a little overbearing," he finished.

"So what do we do?"

Clark sighed, wondering if Lana had manipulated him into this, or it'd just happened naturally. Because, while it did seem the most obvious solution, he hated how he'd gotten here. "I'll talk to him."

Lana looked up at him with luminous eyes. "Will you? I mean, you're better friends with him anyway, and it'd just be really weird for me. He's dating the girl I love."

"I understand." Clark sighed. "I'll talk to him tomor..."

"Sorry, sorry," Lex said, appearing at the top of the stairs. He crossed the room and kissed Clark on the forehead. "You okay?" His eyes searched Clark's, the urgency of Clark's messages painting the beautiful blue.

Clark smiled and pulled Lex into his lap. "I'm good." They kissed gently. Then Clark turned to Lana. "I'll talk to Chad tomorrow. Or soon. I've got things going on."

"I understand. Just, try to make it really soon? I don't want him to keep getting hurt."

"I promise."

Lana smiled and nodded. "Okay. Thanks. I'm going to go home and call Henry. Night."

"Night," both Clark and Lex said.

Lana rose and left the room.

"What is going on?" Lex asked, turning to Clark. He shifted around so he could wrap his legs around Clark's torso, hands on his shoulders.

Clark's heart rate sped up as the images of the caves and Kyla and the octagon on the wall entered his mind again. He took a deep breath, fingers kneading Lex sides, and said, "I've found something."

* * *

"Damien?" Lex whispered, creeping into Damien's room late that night.

Damien stirred. "Dom?"

Okay, _that_ was disturbing.

Lex forced himself to shake it off. "No, it's Lex." He touched Damien on the shoulder lightly.

Damien slept with the television on, and the light make his dark eyes seem to glow. "Do you need me to call Dr. Sutton?" he asked, voice sounding dry and raspy.

Lex shook his head and asked, "What are the odds of finding that octagon again? The one that goes with the ship?"

His eyes closed and he made a low humming sound in his throat. "The words 'slim' and 'none' come to mind."

"That's what I thought." He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "How long will it take to assemble a team?"

"Two days."

"You have it. Priority one, get a team, get them out there by the end of the week, I don't care what it takes."

"Your wish, sir."

* * *

Don't put it off. That had been the first thing to go through Clark's mind when he'd woken that morning. _Don't put it off_. Talk to Chad today, _now_ , as soon as you see him.

Clark didn't know what to say. He did know that he wasn't going to get anywhere, though. He hadn't cut himself or anything, but he knew the desire came from the same place as his depression and shame had. Or, at least, he thought it did, and that's why he knew it wasn't going to happen all at once. No matter how he approached Chad, Chad would deflect him.

So don't put it off. Make that first step and see what happened.

God, he wished he didn't have to do this. Why couldn't Chad have other friends that noticed this? Why him and Lana?

Clark gripped his backpack strap tighter and pushed the thought away. It had to be him because he'd been there. Was there a lot of days. And Lana ...

He crossed the quad, weaving through the throng of students and plopped himself on a bench next to Chad.

"Hey," Clark said uncertainly.

Chad, who was painting his nails a really cool shade of dark green, looked up. "Hey! What's up?"

Despite himself, Clark took the bottle and studied it. "Got anything darker?"

"Blue. That really dark shade that's almost black," Chad offered. Gingerly, he pulled it from his backpack and offered it.

"Thanks." Clark set Chad's bottle back down and took the new shade. "Where's Chloe?" he asked as he shook it.

"Torch. She was inspired last night for an editorial. She saw some program on Helen Keller, and how she was a socialist and did all this stuff that no one is ever told about, and she decided to write something about how schools lie to people."

Clark snorted and uncapped the polish. "Reynolds is going to _love_ that."

"It's true, though. I mean, it's a lie by omission, but still a lie. We aren't told a whole huge portion of history--lots of history, not just Helen Keller--because of politics or something." He shrugged. "I agree with her."

"I wasn't saying she was wrong, although I want to read the article and see the rest of the evidence and stuff myself. I just was making a comment on the administration and how it'll respond to an attack." He carefully painted the pinkie of his right hand.

"Reynolds is, in a lot of ways, cooler than Kwan. I was in Kwan's office every week for causing trouble." He air quoted the last, a look of disgust twisting his painted lips.

Clark frowned. "You cause trouble?"

"That's what Kwan called it when the jocks pounded on me. My fault, you see." He pointed to his face and shook his head. His blue eyes were sad.

"Reynolds doesn't do that?"

"Well, I don't tell Reynolds, so that helps. But the few times someone was caught beating me up, we all got detention at least. Not just me. And I wasn't talked to."

"He's from out of town," Clark offered. "Maybe that's why."

"Yeah. I guess. Anyway, I think that Reynolds is easier to get along with than Kwan. And I think he'll see Chloe's editorial for what it is: genius. So I'm not worried."

Clark laughed and blew on his fingernails. "I just hope he gets off my case. He still thinks I should be doing more than the literary magazine."

"Dude, you're doing the whole thing practically by yourself. Sorry about that, by the way."

"No, it's cool. I really like being the editor and stuff. Although I'd really like it if you could lend a hand when I print it all out and staple it. That's going to be the hard part. Speaking of ..." With his unpainted hand, Clark reached into his backpack and pulled out the folder he kept all the submitted pieces in. "I finished editing your story for the magazine."

"Yeah, sure. How bad was it?" Chad grimaced as he took it from Clark.

"No, it was good," Clark assured him. He set to work on his other hand. "A lot better than your first essay. Less intense and .... There was a lot of imagination in this one. I enjoyed it."

Chad beamed. "Wow, thanks. I'm really glad you liked it."

"You've got talent, Chad. And it shows a lot better when you don't try too hard, you know?"

"Thanks." He scanned the piece, checking over the corrections.

As he did, Clark studied Chad from under his eyelashes. A quick X-Ray confirmed the bruise Lana had seen on Chad's back did go around to the front. There was also a crack in one of his ribs, very, very light, but there was a tight bandage around Chad's chest. He must have gotten someone to look at it. The bruise, though, was dark and ugly, deepest on his side.

"The changes are good," Chad said. He looked up at Clark. "Do you want me to retype it, or did you want to?"

"Type it and put it on a disk. I'm going to play around with formatting and fonts and stuff later. But, uh, can you help me with the final?"

"Oh, totally. After school Monday?"

"Yeah." He finished off his nails and blew a stream of air on them.

Chad smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "You're lucky," he said.

"Why?"

"You're so big. You can sit out here and do that and not have to worry about people thinking you're gay."

"I worry about it," Clark said. He studied his nails. "Especially lately."

"Because of those reporters?" Clark nodded. "Chloe said she and Lana told the one from the Globe to get lost yesterday. He shouldn't be coming back." Chad hesitated, and then asked, " _Are_ you gay?"

"Not totally," Clark said. He wasn't supposed to come out, but sometimes ... it was too hard to stay in. Especially when he was sitting with someone before school, painting his nails.

"And are you with Lex Luthor? I mean, like the rumors are saying?"

Clark looked at Chad. "What rumors?"

He flushed. "Besides the ones they're publishing in the tabloids, I mean .... Guys talk. People talk. And some people think that you and Lex are together. But," he added quickly, "other people think that, no, you aren't and that Luthor and Mr. Townsend are together and you and me are fucking and trying to hide it by saying I'm with Chloe." A worried expression crossed his face, and Chad dug his fingernails into the skin above the leather cuff he was wearing.

He frowned and looked down at Chad's wrists. He looked through the cuffs and found the cuts and scars Lana had described. Some looked really fresh while others were old and fading. But they were there, and they seemed more intimate than the bruise on Chad's back.

"Lex and I are best friends," Clark said. "And if people think I'm screwing him, I really don't care as long as they leave us both alone." He looked into Chad's eyes. "Same with you. I don't really care if people think we're together and trying to hide it, as long as they don't do anything." He inhaled deeply and asked, "Chad, the jocks. Are they giving you a hard time? I mean, are you getting beaten up because of me?"

Chad snorted and gathered his nail polish. "Believe me, Clark," he said, dropping everything into his backpack. "I was getting pounded on long before you noticed I existed. Like I said: you're lucky. You're big enough that no one's going to bother you even you dropped to your knees in the Talon and sucked Luthor off. Me? I'd get pummeled for being in the same room when it happened."

"I want to help you. I know you got beat up the other day. Lana saw the bruise."

Chad, who'd half risen off the bench, stopped and frowned. "What?"

"When you were with Chloe yesterday your shirt rode up. There was a bruise."

"I'm fine, Clark. It was nothing." He was scratching his hand again; skin was beginning to wear away, blood welling in the shallow cuts.

Clark pulled Chad's hand away. Then, uncertain what he was doing was right, he pushed the cuff on his left hand up to reveal a deep, ugly cut. "I guess I'm worried," he said evenly, lifting his eyes.

Chad's were tumultuous, and he gazed at Clark's shoulder. "I'm fine. I swear. Gotta go." He yanked his hand away and fled.

Clark watched him go, feeling shaky and sick. That was the beginning. Now he just had to follow through, and do it soon.

* * *

Lex sat at his desk, staring at his hands. He felt numb. Frozen. And disconnected, which scared him, or would if he wasn't feeling so ... well, disconnected right now.

It was a disgusting and traumatizing thing to walk in on your parents having sex. It was worse walking in on a woman you worshiped being fondled and breathed on by a lecherous and evil man. Especially when that man was your father.

He exhaled slowly, chest aching. Maybe he did need Doctor Sutton. Maybe he needed to go to the hospital. Maybe he was insane again.

The door to his office opened and Martha entered. "Lex?" she said hesitantly. "May I talk to you for a moment?"

Lex looked up from his hands and smiled at Martha calmly. Or, at least, he intended to smile at her; whatever was on his face must have been terrifying, judging by her reaction, and he quickly dropped it. "Come in."

Martha closed the door behind her and crossed the room. "I want to talk to you about what happened earlier."

"What do you mean?" Lex asked, trying to look puzzled.

"With your father. Saying about how I remind him of your mother."

"Oh, that. I'd forgotten all about that." Some days, Lex was the king of casual lies. Others, he sounded as if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and was trying to convince Mommy that it wasn't _his_ hand.

He cleared his throat and shrugged. "It wasn't unexpected." Just from _you_.

"Lex." Martha floated gracefully into the chair across from his desk and leaned across. "Your father does things like that a lot. He's trying to make me uncomfortable ..."

"No, he's not," Lex said, voice tight. Because he wasn't. Lex had assumed, at the very beginning, everything was a ploy to hurt Martha or scar Clark. Well, Lionel was definitely trying to hurt Clark, but not the way Lex had assumed. It was so much worse.

She looked confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"He's trying to make you fall in love with him."

The look on Martha's face was everything Lex needed to feel human again. The iciness broke, and the tightness in his chest went away. His muscles relaxed and, yes, the headache hit rather hard, but it was worth it.

"Lex," Martha said in a low, almost desperate voice. "Nothing that man will do can _ever_ make up for what he did." She reached out and took his hand. "Lex, you know why I'm here. Your father isn't going to seduce me, I'm not going to fall in love with him. Not while I have my husband and my boys."

He blinked, face going red. "Oh. Uh .... Oh." Lex licked his lips and looked away. "I'm sorry."

Martha squeezed his hand comfortingly. "It's okay, Lex. I understand." She hesitated, then squeezed his hand again. "Look at me."

"What?"

"Look at me, Lex."

Lex swallowed hard and then forced himself to turn his head to Martha. It took a couple tries, but eventually, he was able to meet her eyes.

She smiled softly. "I will never be angry at you for being uncomfortable or suspicious about your father and my relationship. He's done too many things to you for me to take it personally. And I also promise that I will never allow him to do anything to me."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"You know what I mean. And I can keep this promise."

He worried the scar on his upper lip and said, "I hope so."

* * *

Guilt was an insidious emotion. It clung to you blackly, like tar, weighing down your every step. It made you queasy and nervous, and even if your body gave up on sweating months ago, guilt made your palms slick even still. It was haunting and persistent and the only way to get rid of it was confession or penance.

For once, Clark almost wished he was Catholic. Confessing his sins to a stranger, kneeling in a booth, and counting beads for atonement was ten times preferable to facing Lex with the taste of Kyla still on his lips.

He sighed, a plume of breath flowering in front of his face as he did.

He could, he knew, wait. There was no compelling reason to rush over right now. The fact that he'd kissed Kyla wasn't going to go away; it would still be true tomorrow. He could wait to tell Lex tomorrow.

He kept plodding up the road to Lex's house. Because it had to be now.

Life had always been complicated, and the one thing that remained true was the fact it wasn't getting easier. The last, easy, happy, uncomplicated moment in Clark's life had to have been around the Fourth of July. Ever since then, there'd been nothing but breaking up and marriages and meteor rocks and insane mothers and dying brothers to complicate everything and steal Clark and Lex's happiness.

It wasn't going to change. Not really. And Clark couldn't keep waiting for things to get better; he had to be happy with what he had now. He and Lex were together. They were in love. Yes, they were having some problems with nosy reporters and lingering grief at Ryan's loss, but they could cope. And get stronger.

But this. Destiny. It got you every time. And this was literally written on the wall. Well, painted. But whatever.

Clark didn't really believe in destiny. Not like this. He only wanted destiny to mean he got to do things he wanted to do, like spend the rest of his life with Lex. It wasn't supposed to mean he was destined to be with a girl who was, while admittedly pretty, not Lex.

The castle loomed over him suddenly, and he was at the gate.

"Hey, Clark," the guard, Eric, said. "Wasn't expecting you tonight."

He shook his head. "I wasn't expecting to come. Any problems?"

"Naw. All quiet. Mr. Luthor's inside. Both of 'em."

"Thanks."

The house felt empty, but it was also Thursday night. On Thursdays, everyone had the night off. Well, the housekeeping staff, anyway. Mabel usually stuck around, and Damien and his nurse were there, but they were just three people. Plus Lionel, whose presence was so large it filled up almost everything, but even still, there was a feeling of emptiness with the echo of each of Clark's steps.

Clark liked it empty. Maybe it was morbid of him, because one of the main reasons he liked it empty was because of the hollow feeling rather than the chance to be alone with Lex, but that was the way it was. His footsteps echoed, and he didn't feel so confined by the walls. He could breathe and stretch and just feel comfortable in a space that, maybe wasn't his, was where he'd done a lot of growing up.

Besides, the emptier the house, the more chance of him and Lex falling to the floor and having quick and dirty sex wherever they were.

Lex was in his office, bent over his desk. He was humming softly, but at least, for once, it wasn't _Small World_. It sounded like a Beatles song, and Lex's head was bobbing in time with the music only he could hear.

It was funny, Clark thought as he watched Lex fondly from the door. He had a fantastic sound system in this room, but he so rarely used it when he worked. Once or twice Clark had walked in to the sounds of rain or whatever--relaxation tapes he'd bought after Desiree. A few times, when he'd been angry, there'd been either heavy metal or punk rock or whatever (Clark didn't really know music all that well) or heavy, angry classical music. But, really, the only person Clark had seen make full use of the sound system was Mr. Senatori.

Lex grinned and scribbled furiously on the document in front of him. Then he glanced up. "Hey. Come on in." Then he lowered his head once more.

"I don't want to interrupt."

"I'm almost done." He wrote a few things more, and the wiped the nib of the pen on his already ink-stained hand. A few more bars of the song escaped his throat as he wrote a little more, and then that grin spread across his face again, lighting his eyes, and he tossed the pen down. "Done."

Clark couldn't help but smile back. Lex looked so happy. "With what?"

"My new fertilizer. It's done. I had a breakthrough today, and figured out the formula. We start testing next week."

"Congratulations." Clark went to him and pulled Lex out of his seat. "I knew you could do it," he whispered as he kissed Lex deeply.

Lex moaned in his throat and grasped Clark's arms. "Christ," he gasped when they broke apart. He kissed Clark back fiercely, tongue probing in Clark's mouth, twining around his own. "Remind me to have breakthroughs more often." He pushed Clark onto the desk.

Clark sat, wrapping his arms around Lex's waist. He kissed and licked along Lex's neck, biting his lips gently as his hands massaged up Lex's spine. This was right. This was what he wanted, who he wanted. Everything had been wrong while kissing Kyla. She smelled wrong and tasted wrong. Her mouth didn't fit right, and her body was too small in his arms.

Lex, though. Lex had been made for him. He fit perfectly against Clark, and in his hands and it was just _right_.

Lex pulled away. "You're thinking really hard right now."

"Just about how much I love you." Clark's thumb rubbed over Lex's cheekbone. "How right you are for me."

"I think the same thing every time I see you." Lex kissed his upper lip. "And every time I open my desk drawer."

"Why?"

Lex reached over and slid the door open. Inside was a framed picture of Clark, gazing out happily and smiling.

"You have a picture of me?"

"Well, you are my boyfriend. And apparently I'm more romantically inclined than I thought." He kissed the underside of Clark's jaw. "I like having pictures of you around. Your mom even gave me a wallet size of your school picture."

"But I look like a dork," Clark groaned, embarrassed.

Lex just laughed.

With a heavy sigh, Clark wound his arms around Lex tighter and kissed him between the eyes. "I barely have any pictures of you. It's not fair."

"I'll try to fix that as soon as possible. But remember, right now ..."

"We have to be really discreet, I know." He sighed and stroked Lex's back. "So, uh, we kind of need to talk."

Lex's face darkened. "What happened?"

"Nothing bad," Clark hastened to assure him, stroking his back more firmly. "I don't think."

"You don't think."

"Lex, please?"

A look passed over Lex's face and he nodded. "Of course. Sorry, of course. Let's go sit down. Do you want to go to the entertainment room or bedroom?"

"Entertainment." Clark shrugged. The guilt for kissing Kyla had lessened when he realized that no matter what, Lex was the one for him. But the guilt over everything else made it seem like a conversation for a couch, not a bed.

Lex nodded. "All right." He was suspicious, or, at the very least, nervous. It was hard to tell.

Hand in hand, they left the office--locking it behind them--and headed to the entertainment room. Clark's stomach got heavier and heavier as they walked, but Lex was ... composed. Concerned, but not too upset.

Clark pressed his hand in the space above his stomach, concentrating on Lex's emotions. He seemed fine. Weird.

Lex glanced at him as they stepped into the room. "What?"

"Nothing." Then, when Lex cocked and eyebrow, he said, "It's just I'm all worried and upset, and you're okay."

"You said it wasn't anything bad."

"I know what I said." He blushed. "I just don't feel it."

Lex kissed his cheek, sighing softly. "I know. I can feel that." He tapped his finger on his temple. "You're upset and guilty and nervous right now, and I could take my cues from you and get the same way, or angry or frustrated, but that's not going to accomplish anything. So I'm going to be calm and patient and I'll wait until you tell me what's going on to react."

"You can do that?"

"I've been practicing," Lex replied with a laugh. He kissed Clark lips gently. "Go pour us a drink and sit down; I'm going to start the fire."

Clark kissed him and held him tight for a moment before releasing Lex. He went to the bar and poured them both orange juice, adding a splash of vodka to each. Then he went to the loveseat and settled onto it comfortably. He set the glasses on the table and undid his shoes, kicking them off. By the time he was done, Lex was sitting next to him, sipping his orange juice.

"So," Lex said, laying his head on Clark's shoulder. "What's going on?"

Clark swallowed hard and pulled away. He scooted into the corner of the loveseat, scrunching himself in as much as he could.

Lex was hurt, and it flashed through Clark painfully, but he didn't actually say anything. Instead, he moved to the other corner of the loveseat and pulled his legs up, turning to face Clark.

Hot with shame, Clark looked down at his hands. "Remember the caves I was telling you about last night?

"Yes."

He sounded frosty. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Clark swallowed again. "Uh, I went down there earlier with Kyla again. To study them. And, uh, she showed me more of the story." He licked his lips. "Naman, uh, has more to do than come down and shoot fire from his eyes and stuff. He's got, like, this brother. Ziget. Not a real brother, but a man who's like a brother."

"Lovers?"

"I don't know. I mean, it occurred to me." He licked his lips. "She just said they were like brothers, but somehow, I got the feeling it was more. Like you brought up about Warrior Angel and Devilicus, how you always thought they were best friends, but now you think maybe they're gay? So it got me thinking, you know, about what the phrase means. A sort of coding or whatever so people don't freak out. I mean," he glanced up at Lex, "aren't you always telling me that Alexander and Hephastion were closer than brothers?"

Lex raised his eyebrow, amusement breaking through the stoniness his face had been set in when Clark had pushed him away. "Well, yes. But that's because they were lovers. I'm sure there are men in history whose relationship could be described as closer than brothers, but didn't sleep together."

"Yeah, of course. I was just saying that ..."

"I know what you were saying, Clark. I was just teasing you."

He blushed. "Oh. Right." He cleared his throat. "Uh, anyway, Ziget and Naman. They're close, right, except one day Ziget is going to turn against Naman. Then they'll be the balance between light and dark."

There was a long silence. No one said anything, and, after a moment, Clark got nervous. Had he said something wrong? Told the story wrong?

"Lex?"

"I guess it never occurred to you that perhaps Pete is the friend they're talking about," he said stiffly.

"I'm not closer to him than a brother. I'm not even _like_ a brother to him anymore." Why had he brought this up? What purpose was it supposed to serve except to insult and hurt Lex? All of this seemed to be designed to make him feel bad, and then ...

Lex sighed suddenly, shaking his head. "No, Clark, it's okay. You're concerned, I get it. Sorry I snapped."

"No, I'm sorry I brought it up. I just ... I didn't want to hurt you."

"You didn't."

"Yes, I did. You're upset."

"Just because you seem convinced I'm going to betray you."

Clark grabbed both of Lex's hands. "I don't think you're going to betray me. I _don't_. I'm just so confused right now, and I'm all freaked and upset and I don't know what to think."

"It's a story," Lex said patiently. He squeezed Clark's hands. "It's just a story. There are tons exactly like it."

"Not about me."

"No. They're not. But, even so, it's an ... an archetype. A model of a story that's fairly universal that shows up in many, many cultural myths. It's still being told in our culture, Clark. Warrior Angel and Devilicus. Obi-Wan and Anakin. Hell, even Jesus and Judas. It is, to crib Disney, a tale as old as time. Don't let it get to you."

He shook his head. "But it's different. This is my destiny they're talking about."

Lex cocked his head. He didn't say anything as he studied Clark, and Clark squirmed in his seat, embarrassed he'd said it out loud.

With a sigh, Lex scooted across the loveseat to Clark. "I've always been under the impression that you didn't take much stock in destiny," he said quietly, taking Clark's hands. "I talk about it all the time, but I've always felt that it was something that, while you didn't mind hearing, you didn't necessarily believe in all of it. It's a pretty story. But not one that meant much to you personally."

Clark blushed, and looked away. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I mean, maybe you're right. Maybe we weren't _destined_ to be with each other. Maybe we just happened to be a perfect fit. You don't have to believe it. But me? I prefer to believe in destiny."

"But _why_?" Clark had to ask. "I mean, you hate what you think is your destiny."

"Not the part that's you." Lex kissed his hand. "And, besides, if my destiny includes living happily ever after with you, then the rest couldn't be that bad."

"I guess not." He took a deep breath. "There's a girl in the paintings, too."

Lex laughed softly and kissed the tips of Clark's fingertips. "I'd be surprised if there wasn't. I thought you'd said something about the original alien falling in love with the mother of the Kwatche people." Delicately, he sucked on Clark's thumb.

"Yeah."

"Then that's it. Love. Betrayal. Protecting the world. A lovely story." Blue eyes peered up into his. "Not destiny."

"How do you know?"

"Because destiny isn't painted on cave walls, Clark. Stories are. The Kwatche people painted their stories, their hopes and dreams for the future, on those walls. _Their_ beliefs, Clark. Not yours. You don't have to follow them."

Clark was going to hell. Straight to hell, because he'd cheated on Lex with some girl that wasn't anything to him. Not that he'd thought there was something between them or anything, but he'd at least had the heat of the moment and the swirl of destiny to excuse his behavior before. Now ...

"What?" Lex sat up, eyes narrowed as he looked at Clark. "What is it?"

"Nothing. I mean, it's just that ..."

His eyebrow arched, understanding dawning. "Kyla thinks she's the girl. Your destiny girl."

"Uh ..."

"And you kissed her, didn't you?"

Note to self: think faster. It sounded so much worse coming from Lex.

"Yeah," he admitted softly. "And she, uh, knows about me."

"Fuck."

"No, it's not that bad," Clark hastened to assure him. "She's totally cool with it. I mean, she thinks I'm Naman. She's not going to tell anyone."

Lex sat back, rubbing his eyes. "Maybe not intentionally, unless she gets upset at you. Clark, she thinks she the woman destined to be with you." He pulled his hands away from his eyes. "You're gay."

"I know."

He sighed and crawled across the couch to Clark. As he wrapped his arms around Clark, he kissed his neck and then lay his head on his shoulder. "Why did you tell her?"

"I didn't, exactly. It just happened, and when she started figuring it out, I didn't hide it. I don't know why. And I don't know why I kissed her, it just .... I just did."

"How did it make you feel?"

"What? Kissing her or letting her find out?"

"Either one."

He thought about it. "It was sort of ... freeing when she found out. Because I knew I didn't have to hide things. Hide who I was. And she was so excited, it just made it cool. But kissing her." Clark licked his lips. "I don't know. I guess I was scared. I was kissing a girl, having to deal with a destiny I didn't want. I was just so confused. I mean, I want to be with you, but there's this painting on the wall, and the girl on it has the same bracelet as Kyla, and I didn't know what to do. So I kept kissing her until it finally felt okay to stop, you know?"

"You mean, until she slid her hand down your pants and you freaked."

Clark's turned red and closed his eyes. "Yeah. I told her I didn't want to move too fast."

"Good one." Lex kissed him. "Are you interested?"

"No. I'm gay, mostly. And, while I like Kyla, she's a little ... dim? Or something. If I was going to sleep with a girl, it'd be one who wasn't ... dim."

Lex laughed. "Good to know." His fingers played in Clark's hair. "Of course, Chloe's not dim."

"Don't worry about Chloe," Clark said, kissing him.

Lex climbed on top of Clark and took his chin his hand. "And don't worry about your destiny. Whatever is on those walls isn't about you."

"But what ... what if they meant to send me here? My p-parents. I always thought it was coincidence. I mean, I know I would have found you, because we fit together so well. And with you, everything makes sense." He closed his eyes, feeling tears welling. Damn it; he wanted to be over this crying thing. "I thought it was all just lucky, but now I don't know. I mean, what if they wanted me to b-be with Kyla? What if that _is_ my destiny."

"It's not. And even if that's what your parents wanted, who cares? They're not here. You are. This is your life, not theirs. You live it how you want to." He kissed Clark's chin.

He sniffed and closed his eyes. "Easy for you to say."

"No, it's not easy for me to say. You know I'm the king of all family issues."

"But at least you have family on this planet!" Clark practically shouted, eyes flying back open. "I mean, for a year I've been floundering, wondering who the hell I was and who my parents were. I don't know them, not really. And my memories. It's like they happened to someone else. And now I finally have some ... some sort of evidence that my parents actually existed. That more than my parents existed. An entire culture, and they knew about Earth and they walked here and stuff, and I'm .... I just don't know how I feel." He closed his eyes again and turned his head away.

Lex sighed. His fingers wound through Clark's hair, petting and soothing silently. The heavy weight of his head rested neatly in the crook of Clark's neck. Warm breath teased against his skin, and Clark could feel Lex's heart beating against his own.

He wound his arms around Lex's body and held him close. His eyes hurt and his chest ached. His nose was stuffy.

"I think I caught girl cooties," he said crankily.

Warm laughter buzzed against his chest, and Lex's teeth caught his skin. "Didn't I warn you about those girls?"

"No." He rubbed his eyes. "You said I should sleep with one."

"Hmmm." Lex licked the spot he'd just bitten. "That is true. Didn't mean it, though."

Clark raised an eyebrow as he rucked up Lex's shirt. "You didn't mean it? We had a huge fight over this."

"It was not huge." He sat up and tugged his shirt off.

"Yes, it was. I distinctly remember anger and frustration and a lot of yelling." He licked Lex's collarbone, eyes falling shut as the familiar and welcome taste.

"Which time?" Lex asked, hands running up Clark's back and holding tightly.

"If you have to ask which time, it was a big fight." Clark's mouth closed around Lex's nipple and he sucked hard.

Lex He exhaled hard, then groaned loudly as Clark's teeth sank sharply into the soft skin.

"Little arguments," he gasped, "spread out over time," he moaned, "don't make it big."

Clark pulled away and tossed his shirt off. "Are we having sex? And considering how many times we've argued about this, combined together, it's a big fight."

"Yes, we are. And no, it wasn't. We were just already upset." His tongue snaked its way around Clark's nipples. Then he blew a stream of cold air across the sensitive skin.

Clark shuddered, eyes falling shut. His stomach twisted as his nipple peaked.

"It felt big."

"I know." Lex's tongue traced the outline of Clark's pectoral, and then licked down the center of his chest. "And I'm sorry if you felt that way." His teeth sank into Clark's stomach.

Red bursts exploded behind Clark's eyes. "Fuck," he gasped, hands trembling as they released Lex's hips. Everything was so intense, almost too intense, but it was fine, because Lex was ^inside^ him, and pressing from the inside, and it was so _right_.

Another nerve was stroked, and Clark's body flamed. He shuddered and managed, "Holy crap."

Lex laughed against his stomach. As he did, a warm, heavy, liquid feeling ^spread^ through Clark's body, starting as his groin. His cock hardened as fire traced along his nerves. His whole body felt heavy with arousal.

Taking Clark by the wrists, Lex picked his arms up and pinned them on the armrest next to Clark's head. His lips fell on Clark's a little sloppily, mouth open. His breath was warm against Clark's skin, and it danced along it in a way that made him squirm.

"Relax," Lex breathed.

"Yeah." Clark let out a long, shaky breath. "Relax." Easy to say. His body was tensed tightly with anticipation.

Lex's mind ^opened^ Clark's slowly, sliding sinuously inside. As he did, the sensory network that connected and bound them together burned brightly in Clark's minds eye. It seemed even more complicated than the last time he'd seen it clearly, more interconnected with Lex than before. Strands wove in and out of Lex's, holding them together.

/ How could you give a moment's thought to a stupid picture on a cave wall?/ Lex asked, delicately ^plucking^ at Clark's web.

Shockwaves rippled through Clark's body. They slowly undulated under his skin, making his skin feel tight.

/You're mine./

"I know." Clark gasped. He pressed his hips into Lex's, pushing their hard cocks together.

/And I'm yours./ He ^squeezed^ a bead that wrapped their nets around each other in an intricate twist, and both groaned loudly, grinding into each other.

"You are. Mine. God, I love you." Breathless, he ^stroked^ over a wide net of Lex's web.

Lex's head dropped to Clark's chest. "Me too." He began to grind intently into Clark, the delicate web-teasing forgotten. They were still joined, and every jolt that went through one was felt by the other, doubling their pleasure.

Clark grabbed Lex's ass to hold him in place. His hips thrust into Lex's, rolling steadily, eyes squeezed shut. His temples pulsed in time with the thundering of his heart, and he felt himself building to a peak.

/Need to come./ Lex moaned. /Damn you, I used to be able to do this for hours./

"But you never had anyone who could do this." Clark ^grasped^ a bright jewel in the intricate web and squeezed.

Apparently, it was connected to both of them, because the world exploded around them both. Clark was aware of Lex's back arching as he screamed, but Clark himself was too busy being caught in the torrent of white hot sensations that engulfed his body. He came hard, the world disappearing. All that existed was pleasure and Lex.

He didn't know how long he was unaware of what was going on, but when he came too, Lex was clinging to him, legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

"Please don't crash. Please don't crash. Please don't crash. Please don't crash," he whispered in a fast litany into Clark's neck.

"Baby?"

"Oh, God, Clark, we're too high."

Holding Lex tightly, Clark glanced down. They were extremely high up, probably higher than Clark had ever managed to get. At least, higher than he'd gotten while still holding Lex.

"It's okay," he whispered, although his stomach bottomed out at the height.

His eyes squeezed shut and he swallowed back a bitter taste at the back of his mouth. He couldn't freak out, he was holding Lex. He couldn't hurt Lex.

Clark exhaled shakily and forced himself to calm. When his heart slowed, he opened his eyes and glanced down.

They were still high, but he could deal with this. All he had to do was make them float slowly back to the ground.

Weight. He could imagine piling weights in his stomach that would lower him.

He closed his eyes again and did it.

Immediately, the world lurched. Lex shouted, arms tightening around him.

"Shit!" Clark exclaimed. The weights disappeared and they shot back up. Plaster fell around them as the ceiling cracked.

"Don't _do_ that," Lex gritted out, panic evident in his voice

"Sorry," Clark managed shakily. "But we're okay, baby." He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes again.

He tried again, only this time, imaging a rope tied around his foot. Very, very slowly, he tugged at the rope from the bottom, pulling him down like a balloon.

They began sinking again, very, very slowly. Inch by inch they floated down, barely feeling the air as they cut through it.

Clark hated this. Hated being subject to the whims of his body, and he wished he could just let go and crash just to punish himself for being so stupid, but he couldn't hurt Lex. Couldn't hurt Lex. Couldn't hurt Lex.

That mantra was still going through his head when he ass touched the couch. Quickly, he released Lex, afraid he was going to fly up again, but Lex grabbed him by the wrist.

"Just stay," he said hoarsely.

Clark took a shuddering breath and nodded. He continued to imagine the heaviness weighing him down, but he was struggling. His body wanted to fly, and it sucked.

"Lex, I ..." Something snapped and his full weight fell onto the couch.

He sighed and flopped his head on the back. "I'm sorry," he whispered breathlessly.

"Don't be." Lex curled up next to him and kissed his shoulder. Then he sighed and rested his head on it. "We need to train you out of that."

"Yeah, I know," Clark said softly.

Lex threaded their fingers together. "I do like it. I like watching you in the air, and I'm getting used to being taken up. But you need to be able to control it."

"Control," Clark said. "As in more of those balls?"

"No, not balls. Bondage, probably." He kissed Clark's shoulder again.

That didn't sound to bad, considering how much he liked being tied up. And maybe they'd finally get to use handcuffs and chains.

Clark perked up. "Bondage is fun."

"Yes. And, if it takes a long time to learn, it's fine. There's no rush on this, no not being able to have sex until you learn how to control it. Except with other people, of course."

"Lex ..."

"No, hear me out. Maybe one day we'll have a threesome with someone, or, perhaps one day, you'll decide that you want to see what it's like with a girl, or even another man. Maybe you'll meet Seth Green, find out he's gay, and he'll tell you he wants you to fuck him. And, maybe I'll go along with it because I'm secure enough in our relationship to realize it's just sex. So you do. You can't float when you come. You just can't. So, we'll train you out of it."

Clark simply laughed and shook his head. Putting his arm around Lex, he said, "You really have some imagination."

Lex looked up at him. "I have to think fast. My boyfriend's an alien. And he's sixteen. I need to examine every possibility of what might happen."

"Do you really think you could handle me sleeping with someone else?"

He sighed and laid his head back on Clark's shoulder. "Don't get mad?"

"I won't."

"I almost think you should sleep with Whitney when he comes back, as long as he knows it's just sex. I think you have some unanswered questions, and at least exploring that possibility might do you some good. I don't feel ... great about it. But I think you might ... maybe should ..."

"I don't want to sleep with Whitney," Clark interrupted.

Lex sighed. "Clark ..."

"No, I'm serious. I don't. I wouldn't mind kissing him, and maybe holding him really tightly for a little bit, just to know he was really home. But that's it. Really." He kissed Lex's temple. "So don't worry about it."

"I'm not worried."

"You're thinking about it. Stop, there's no need. Okay?" He traced his fingers up Lex's bare arms. "But it's okay. I mean, okay, maybe one day I _will_ think about sleeping with someone else. But know my heart is yours. Monako."

Lex sighed and turned into Clark. Putting his arms around Clark, he buried his face in his neck and whispered, "Yeah. Me too."

* * *

The people of Smallville were either easily swayed, really hated Lionel Luthor, or really, really liked buttons, Lana mused as people signed her petition. Or, maybe they just enjoyed the idea of having their very own sacred caves in town. Whatever the reason, they signed her petition and took the buttons and everyone seemed enthusiastic about the cause.

Except for Lana. She couldn't get excited about it. She wanted to be; it was, well, exciting. The mood was festive and purposeful, and she knew what they were trying to do was right and just.

But it was all far away from her. Because the sentence had been passed, and even though she was _glad_ Henry Small was her biological father, she felt at a loss. Last night, she'd been too euphoric about finding family at last to really think about it, but in the early morning light ....

She'd cried. Because the man she'd worshiped and adored for seventeen years had been betrayed by the woman Lana had similarly worshiped and adored. And she didn't know where that left her.

Someone else came up to sign her petition. Lana smiled at him, said, "Thank you," when he was done, and hoped that no one noticed how miserable she was.

"Hey," Chloe said, appearing from behind the guy who'd just left. "So it looks like Clark pulled you into his activist phase."

Amazing how everything got better when that one person arrived. Lana felt her spirits rise, and a genuine smile came to her face as she gazed at Chloe. "Between him and Henry, I didn't really have a choice. But they are fighting for something really important." She handed Chloe a button and wondered if Chloe would get mad at her if she confessed the conflict she was feeling over Henry.

"Thank you," Chloe said, taking the button.

"You're welcome." She smiled as Chloe pinned it to her shirt.

"You know, I haven't seen Clark this worked up over anything in awhile. And even though he's worked so hard on the literary magazine, he doesn't seem all that _excited_ about it. He acts more like it's something he _has_ to do to get Reynolds off his case, instead of something he _wants_ to do you know?"

Lana nodded. "I know. I'm glad, really, that's he's so passionate about it."

"I'm just afraid it's going to break his heart," Chloe said morosely watching as someone approached Lana to get a button.

She nodded as she gave the button to the girl. Then she glanced at Chloe. "Have you met Kyla?"

"Briefly. Clark wanted me to interview her for the Torch, but I made him do it. Supervising, of course, but he's a competent enough news writer to do it himself." She shrugged. "She seemed nice."

"Pretty."

Chloe nodded, eyes wide. "Oh, yeah." She glanced at Lana. "Actually, she kind of looks like you."

She blushed and shook her head. "No. I'll never be that grown up about anything. She's really ... mature, you know?"

"She's eighteen, so that helps. But, Lana, you're fine, okay? Not, like, stunted or backwards or anything. You're good."

Despite herself, Lana felt something inside her relax. Chloe always knew what to say to make that tight knot inside go away, and Lana loved that about her.

She cleared her throat and looked away. "When I saw them together the first time, I got the feeling that her interest in him wasn't just ... friendly."

"Oh, no, it's friendly, Lana," Chloe said, an innocent expression on her face. "It's _really_ friendly."

"Yeah. I mean ..." She cleared her throat. "I think she scared Clark."

Chloe sighed and stopped walking. She leaned against a pillar and looked at Lana, her eyes sad. "You know. I'm almost ... glad, and I know that makes me a horrible friend, but .... After what happened to him, he's so scared of anyone who's interested in him. Which is wrong. He's a beautiful, wonderful, fantastic guy, and he shouldn't be afraid of that. It kills me that he is." She shrugged. "He's bigger than Kyla, she looks like something he's used to worshiping. If she has a crush on him, I think it's good. Maybe he'll start to realize that it's okay for people to want him."

"I agree." She licked her lips. "What happened to him .... I mean, was it bad?"

"Bad enough to undermine his confidence. And sense of safety." She shrugged. "He's getting better."

"I'm glad. Seeing Clark afraid is a little ... scary."

Chloe nodded. "It is," she said. "When I didn't get what was going on, I was so nervous around him. I could see him slipping and drawing away, I just couldn't figure out why. I'm just really glad he's coming out of it." She shook her head and pulled away from the wall. "But we have caves to save, right?"

Lana smiled and nodded and forced any melancholy aside. "Right," she said. She handed Chloe the petition and cocked her head to the rest of the Talon. "Let's go get signatures."

* * *

Apparently, Lana had had some sort of "Save the Caves" party in the Talon earlier that afternoon, but by the evening, all evidence was pretty much gone. Which was a good thing; Lex was pretty much sick of the caves. At least, for today. And the last thing he wanted while he was sitting studying the law books to figure out how to legally take the caves from his dad without having to buy them was a party.

He was in a mood because Dad was going to kill him. Painfully. After all, Lex had just posted bail for a man who was accused of murdering the plant foreman of Lionel's construction site. The man who'd been picketing and disturbing Lionel's new project. The man who'd brought Henry Small into the entire mess to sue Lionel. And Lex had bailed him out, ensuring that he continued his civil--and not so civil--disobedience.

So, Lex was dead.

But, really, it was probably worth it. The caves were a part of Clark, and Lex would do anything to protect that. Even if it meant sucking up to an old man, although, truthfully, Lex didn't think Joseph was very influential in the matter of who would get custodianship of the land. If anything, Lex wanted to keep Joseph happy so he could shed more light on Clark's origins.

Not that Lex really thought Joseph knew anything. Not really. He knew the stories that had been passed down for generations by his people. Lex had said it to Clark the night before, and he still believed it: the paintings didn't have anything to do with Clark's destiny. They were the hopes and dreams of a people whose power had long since faded.

It was the symbols that were important. And the octagon. Those held the secrets to Clark's past, and the key to his future. All Lex had to do was find a way to unlock it.

All he had to do. As if it were that easy.

He sighed and sipped his tea. No, it wasn't an easy thing to do. It wasn't as if Clark's parents--or ancestors--had left a Rosetta stone for translation. Or, if they had--and Lex strongly suspected the octagon key was the, well, key--he and the Kents weren't doing a very good job of keeping track of the damn thing.

The search team was almost assembled. Damien had done his job well. Now all that remained was to determine a search radius to begin in. He'd have to ask Clark and Pete for more precise locations as to where they'd found the ship; the key would be around there somewhere. The problem was trying to figure out how high the ship had gotten before the key had fallen out, if that's what had happened. That would determine the search radius.

He opened his notebook and began taking notes. In an operation like this, organization was important.

"Mr. Luthor, we meet again."

He looked up, a smile crossing his face when he saw who'd addressed him. A real smile, which scared him, but he pushed the discomfort of that away and said, "Dr. Bryce. Hello. It's a pleasure to see you again."

She smirked. "Of course. How's Mr. Walters?"

"Good. Recovering." Depressed, he added silently, but no use in mentioning that. "And how have you been?"

"Busy. Which is good. I thought I'd be bored out here."

He shook his head. "Never," Lex assured her. "The one thing I discovered when I moved out here is that Smallville is _never_ boring."

Helen hummed deep in her throat and sipped her coffee. "Come here often?"

"I own the Talon."

"Really?"

Lex nodded and closed the notebook he'd been writing in. It was nothing incriminating, but something told him that he better play things close to the vest with her, no matter how much he liked her. "It was a favor to a friend. And a way to expand my interests."

"I see. Well, it look like a successful venture."

"It is."

"Good coffee, too." She tapped the lid of her mug. "I was afraid I'd never get a decent cup out here."

"Wherever I am, good coffee is nearby."

Helen laughed outright; Lex felt pleased to get such a response.

"Care to join me?" he asked.

Her smile widened and eyes twinkled. "I don't know if that's all that good of an idea."

"Why not?"

"Well. Dominic doesn't want us to be friends, for starters." She smiled and sipped her coffee, looking as if she'd just revealed some hugely big secret and couldn't wait to see the results.

But, of course, it wasn't going to work. "Dominic, huh? You're basing this on something _Dominic_ said?"

"Yes."

"Well, if I remember clearly, Dominic wanted us to meet the first time. Was anxious for it to happen. Am I right?"

Wrinkles appeared at the corner of her eyes and she said, "So you do remember."

"Yes, I do. It was a New Year's party at the Atrium, you'd been dating Dominic for about three months, I'd been with Victoria for four. I was high on ... something, and Dominic tried to introduce us. I hit on you."

"Yes, you did. And I must tell you, I was never quite as flattered as I was at that moment, realizing I was attractive to a sixteen year old who was absolutely convinced I had three and a half heads. You offered to share one of them with Dominic, I recall."

He laughed. "I did try to be generous. And I was right. You are beautiful."

She didn't blush, but her grin took up her whole face. "Flattery, Mr. Luthor."

"Call me Lex. And I've changed."

"Have you, now?" Helen's dark eyes met his and for a moment, she dropped everything. The humor and sarcasm and defensive edge disappeared and the woman who looked out at him was. Beautiful. Smart. Intelligent and clever.

Clark was lucky Lex was devoted, and Lex was lucky he was in love. This woman was a force to be reckoned with, and Lex had never wanted a docile trophy wife. He'd wanted .... Someone like Helen.

Helen cleared her throat and looked away. This time, her color seemed a little heightened. "I'm not exactly new to the world, Mr. ... Lex. I've never really believed that a leopard could change its spots."

"Maybe not change, but grow up. Everyone does stupid things when they're a kid. You know what it's like growing up in the spotlight."

"I don't think my spotlight was as bright," she admitted, eyes returning to his face. "Or maybe I was just stronger."

His lips twitched. "Do you expect me to protest? I did stupid things and gave into a lot of temptation. But, at the same time, I was young. And your record isn't exactly stellar."

Her mouth fell open. "What would you know about it?"

"I know that you once got caught shop lifting sexy lingerie," Lex told her, a smile curving his lips. "And you were arrested for driving under the influence in college, and you were influenced by more than just alcohol. And you seduced a professor."

"Oh, I did _not_ seduce him. It was mutual consent until the university board found out. Then suddenly I was the Lolita who led him astray." She grabbed a stirrer and stirred her coffee. "You talked to Dominic."

Had her investigated, but also talked to Dominic. So he answered, "Yes," without even having to lie. "I found it interesting that we had a link and I wasn't aware of it when we met. So I wanted to know more." He made a dismissive gesture. "You recognized me."

"You're a little hard to forget."

"It's better to be memorable than forgettable, even if you're memorable for infamous actions."

Helen shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Maybe you're right, although I'm careful about what I want to be known for. I'd rather everyone know my name because of my work than the tabloids. It's why I came here: to make a name for myself. Although," she added, taking the seat across Lex and allowing her eyes to scan across the Talon, "I hadn't expected this town to be quite so ... small."

"The name is misleading, I know," Lex deadpanned.

She really did have a beautiful smile, and Lex enjoyed making it appear. God; he hadn't realized exactly how ... starved he was. He loved Clark with all his heart and soul, but, sadly, he wasn't enough. Lex apparently was a human being and, as such, he did need ... friends.

"I knew it was a small town, and ... well, I though I knew what that entailed," she told him. "But there's a quality to life here that's just different than anything I've ever experienced."

"It was definitely an adjustment when I came," Lex agreed.

She shifted in her seat. "Why did you move to Smallville, anyway? I remember reading in the paper that you'd come to run the fertilizer plant, but I've always had the feeling there was more to the story than that."

Lex shrugged. "Dad wanted to teach me some responsibility."

"You were getting your masters degree."

"You know a lot about me," Lex said, narrowing his eyes. "Why?"

She shrugged. "I just remember the article, that's all. I have a very good memory. Plus, it struck me as odd. You were at Yale and then, without warning, you were sent here."

For the first time in awhile, Lex felt cheated at having been forced to Smallville. He loved it here, it was home, but, at the same time ...

He'd been sent because he'd gotten sick, only, for once in his life, the reason he'd gotten sick hadn't been because he was partying like the end of the world was upon him, it'd been because he'd _loved_ his studies and Damien generally had to force feed him over his books or experiments or whatever. And that, of course, combined with lack of sleep and hanging around other people who weren't bothering to take care of themselves, had led to the flu. Which had led to pneumonia. Which had led to the hospital and Lex's eventual exile.

And, while the exile had turned out to be the best thing that had ever happened to him, it was hard to remember that right now. He wanted some proof of his brilliance, something on paper that said Lex Luthor had mastered some sort of subject, especially when faced when a beautiful, intelligent woman in possession of a medical doctorate.

"Lex?"

He blinked. "Sorry." He forced himself to shrug off his jealousy. He was a genius; he didn't need a piece of paper. Really. "Dad ... felt my talents would be put to better use in the real world. The plant needed guidance, I needed a real-life classroom, so I was sent. Now, well, I'm the president of my own corporation that, if everything follows the plan, should be taking off within the next year. I don't have time to go back to school right now." Maybe in a year or two. Maybe when Clark went to college.

"Pretty sad, though, that a twenty-one year old man allows his father to tell him what to do."

"It's called an inheritance, my dear," he replied archly. "And mine is a lot bigger than yours."

Helen, who'd been mid-sip, snorted into her coffee. "Oh my God," she laughed.

"That's not what I meant," Lex said in amusement. "And you have a dirty mind."

Helen grinned at him and shook her head. "You've found my fatal flaw. Say the right words, and the dirtiest responses flood my head. And that was just too easy."

Lex smiled at sipped his tea. "I would have thought your fatal flaw was prejudice." He raised a pointed eyebrow.

She sighed and gazed at him steadily back. For a moment, she said nothing, merely ran her finger over the lid of her cup. Then she sighed again. "I think I knew about you and Dominic when he and I were together, even if I didn't consciously realize it. And you were such a jerk to both of us. Despite what he may think, I did love him, and it hurt me to see you treating him the way you did. And, yes, throwing up on my shoes didn't exactly endear you to me."

"People can change."

"Maybe. I don't know. How much can a doctor and a businessman have in common?"

"Probably about as much as an English teacher and a businessman, but we make it work," Mark said, coming up behind Helen. He smiled at her as he stepped around to Lex. "Hi, I'm Mark Townsend."

"Dr. Helen Bryce. You can call me Helen," she said, taking his hand and shaking it.

"Pleasure. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"I have a feeling Dr. Bryce was just leaving," Lex said. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Something about me, I should think."

She shot him a look. "Actually, what I was going to say was, although I don't see how we could have that much in common, and our past meetings may not have left me with the best impression of you .... Well, talking to you has been pleasant, so I might not mind doing it again."

"And I might not mind it either," Lex said magnanimously.

Their eyes met and the moment lingered.

Mark cleared his throat. "Well, I'm glad you've gotten that settled. But now I really do feel as if I'm interrupting."

"No, please. Join us," Helen said, smiling at him. "I'm interested to see what a businessman and English teacher have in common."

"Currently, Tolkien," Mark said as he pulled up a chair. "Lex and I are starting a book club."

Oh, God, the level of embarrassment was almost too much to take. His ears felt as if they were burning coals, and his chest started to close. How Mark had been able to deliver that line to a complete stranger was beyond Lex's understanding. When Lex had told Clark about it--and he'd only used the words "book club" because it'd seemed sane when he and Mark had been drunk--Clark had giggled himself into hysteria. Then he'd asked to join, but he was still laughing at the fact Lex and his teacher were making a club.

Helen managed to keep a straight face, but probably only because Mark had that twinkle in his eye that he did so well.

"A book club," she repeated, tone full and heavy with laughter. "With two people?"

"Well, three. One of our members was busy this evening." Mark tilted his head. "You're welcome to join us."

Her grin widened. "What are you reading?"

" _Two Towers_. We're a little behind. We wanted to finish it before the movie came out, but we only have another week, and I don't think we'll make it. I have an essay test to grade, he has some sort of reports or something to finish, so it's probably not going to happen in time."

"But we're almost through the first part," Lex added with a nonchalant shrug. He felt stupid.

Helen rubbed the end of her nose, looking away. "What do you do?" she finally asked.

"Read the book. Talk about it. Drink."

"Drink?"

"If we're here, coffee. His or my place, whatever's handy. Pizza can be involved, or chips or whatever."

Helen's pager went off. She checked it and sighed. "Sounds interesting, but not today. Duty calls." She slid off her seat and slung her purse over her shoulder. "Do you meet regularly?"

"Every Friday evening. For one week and counting," Mark replied.

"I see. Well, give me a call sometime, and I'll see if I'm free. And if you ever want to go out for drinks ..." She pulled two business cards out and handed one to each. She held onto the one she handed Lex longer than was probably necessary, and again their eyes caught. "It was nice talking to you Lex," she said, a smile lighting her eyes.

"It was," he replied, aware that his voice had dropped some. He tugged the card from her fingers, feeling warm.

Her smile grew as she turned to Mark. "It was great meeting you, Mark. I'll see you around."

"Wait, Helen." Lex rose, pulling his card out of his wallet. "If you're free, call me."

She studied him closely while taking the card. "Maybe I will," she finally said.

He smiled. "I look forward to it."

Helen smiled slowly. "I'll see you around." She turned and walked away, her hips swinging enticingly as she did.

Lex watched her go. She really was quite lovely. Not beautiful in a conventional way, maybe, but there was something about her ... especially her humor and the wry expressions she delivered. He hoped she'd call sometime. Or would take his phone calls. And, especially, he hoped she'd be willing to be seen in public--that was, with him by the press--with him.

When she had exited the Talon, he turned. "So, how ... What?" he asked flatly when he saw the expression on Mark's face.

Mark's face immediately changed and he opened his book. "Nothing.

"No, it's something."

"Lex, it's really not my place to say."

Wasn't his place to .... "What? What isn't your place to say?"

Mark sighed and looked up, eyes dark. "It's. Nothing," he said, voice razor sharp.

"You think I'm going to sleep with her."

"No."

"Yes, you do."

Mark sighed. "No, Lex, I don't ..." Then, he changed and said, "Your interest in her does seem to be sexual. Or something close to that."

"So?" Lex asked, jaw tight.

"So you and Clark are having a rough patch right now, and I don't ..."

"It's none of your business."

Mark closed his eyes, the muscles in his jaw convulsing. "I know," he said after a moment, opening his eyes. "But you did ask, so I told you. And I am worried. About both of you. I don't want ..."

"You know what?" Lex said, cutting him off. "Save it. I don't need to listen to your condescension."

" _What_?"

"You're Clark's teacher, Mark. Not mine. I don't need to be taught a lesson, or to be looked out for or anything. I'm perfectly capable of running my own life." He gathered his belongings.

"Lex ..."

"What?" he snapped, voice cold.

Mark flinched and pulled back, like he'd been about to touch Lex. "I'm sorry I've offended you, Lex. I never meant to make it seemed like I was being condescending, I'm just .... You had real chemistry with her. That's all."

"I'm allowed to be attracted to people! I'm a human being."

"Of course you are."

Lex shook his head. "Gee, thank you for allowing me that much," he said sarcastically. "My feelings towards Helen are not any of your business. If I happen to find her attractive, that's my problem. Besides, you're the one that told me that I might want to expand my horizons and be seen with people besides Clark and his friends, remember? And not only that, I happen to be under scrutiny right now. There are pictures circulating of me and Clark at the cemetery from a few weeks ago. An interesting mind and fascinating personality that happens to come in a pretty package might be what I need to get the reporters the fuck off him for awhile. Ever think of that? Unless," he cocked his head, "you're willing to come out of the closet and be my boyfriend for the press."

He blanched.

"Yeah," Lex snorted. "I thought not. See you around."

"Lex ..."

But Lex ignored him. He should have fucking known. Everyone judged him. Everyone. The only person who trusted him was Clark, just like the only person that mattered was Clark.

* * *

"What's the point of having a cell phone if you don't answer it?" Clark demanded of his father when he entered the house that night.

Jonathan looked up from the paper. "Um, I'm sorry?"

"I've been trying to reach Kyla for hours, and she's not returning my calls. And Lex isn't either. Why? They both have cell phones. I told them both I wanted to talk to them right away. I even asked Kyla to call me on my cell, and nothing."

"Well, she called you twice here." He picked up the messages and handed them to Clark. "The second time she said that she was going to be busy for awhile but would call you later."

He took them and read them over. "Did she say anything about me calling her?"

"No. Sorry."

Clark sighed and sat down. "Well. Darn."

"So, what's going on between you and Kyla, anyway?" his dad asked.

He sighed again, head hitting the table so hard it shook. His hands and fisted his hair, tugging it. "I don't know," he groaned. "It's weird. She likes me, right? Like, wants to be my girlfriend. And she's pretty and everything, but I'm not, you know, attracted to her. Not really." He groaned softly. "Okay, there was this one, like, really brief moment where .... But it went away, and I think it was more because of the cave, anyway. Because I feel all calm and mellow and stuff there, and it's just different. _I'm_ different." Clark knocked his forehead against the table. "But outside the cave, she's just a pretty girl, and I don't know how to let her know without hurting her."

His father looked thoughtful. "Didn't you run into a similar problem with Theresa? She liked you, you didn't feel the same way?"

"Yes," Clark said against his sleeve.

"How did you handle that?"

Clark felt his cheeks turn bright red. "Uh, not well, I don't think. I told her I just wanted to be friends, but she still has a crush on me. And I think she's expecting that we'll get together, and I don't know what to do."

"I know it's a difficult position to be in Clark, but her feelings aren't your problem anymore. As long as you were honest with her, you've done your part. You said you weren't interested. Unless you want to tell her you're gay, what more can you do?"

He shrugged.

"And as for Kyla," Jonathan sighed. "I don't understand why you just don't tell her you're not interested."

"She thinks we're destined to be together," Clark said softly.

There was a beat of silence. "Why would she think that?"

Clark chewed in his lower lip before he lifted his head. But he still didn't look at his father as he said, "Because she thinks I'm Naman. And part of the story talks about the woman he's destined to be with. The woman .... she has this bracelet."

"And Kyla has the bracelet?"

"It's been passed down to the women in her family for generations."

Jonathan shifted in his chair and took off his glasses. "Then how do you know that you weren't meant to be with one of them?"

Clark blinked. What did that mean?

He looked at his father.

"Look, Clark. It's a nice story. Really, and every culture needs their stories and religions and myths to give them a sense of ... grounding. A history and a future. And if the bracelet she's wearing is the same as a painting on the wall, then that's also a neat story. But we're not ... tied by them. Or we shouldn't be. They're hopes and dreams, not realities. I think the best thing for both of you would be to sit down and talk to her. Tell her that while you think she's a nice girl, you don't think you're Naman and .... Wait." Jonathan narrowed his eyes. "Why _does_ she think you're him?"

Oops. "Uh ... uh .... Okay, I didn't tell her, right? She figured it out. On her own. About me. There was this cave-in, and I had to save her, and she saw what I did."

Jonathan's face was stone. He looked at Clark, jaw tight, disapproval radiating around him. "Clark ..."

"Dad, it's _my_ secret!"

"But your secret affects all of us," he shot back. "Your mother, me, Lex, Pete. You saw what could happen when you tell your best friend. Right after you told Pete, he let it slip to that doctor. What will Kyla do? She doesn't have any sort of intrinsic loyalty to you like we all do."

"I know, Dad. And I didn't tell her. But lying by omission isn't as bad as telling a boldface lie, okay? She _knew_ , and I froze."

"And now you've put yourself in danger."

"I _get_ that, Dad!" Clark practically shouted, jumping to his feet. Frustration rose swiftly in him, choking him. "I get that I put us all in danger. She likes me. She thinks we're supposed to be together. If I turn her down, maybe she'll tell someone. I totally understand that. But, at the same time, I'm so fucking _sick_ of having to lie about who I am all the time!"

Jonathan blinked. "Clark ..."

"No! Don't say anything!" Clark could feel his pulse up, feel himself getting hysterical, but he couldn't help it. "It's too much. I can't tell anyone I'm an alien. I can't tell anyone I'm gay. I can't tell anyone I'm in love with Lex. I can't tell anyone about Whitney and how confused I am about him and scared I am. I can't talk about Lionel to anyone. I'm all stuffed up with secrets and I can't tell anyone and it sucks!"

His father didn't say anything. There was that look on his face, that frozen, patient, Dad-look that Clark knew really meant that Dad was scared at the way he was acting, but trying to hide it. He was actually a lot better than Mom at it, but it didn't help; Clark knew.

The tension broke and he had to blink rapidly to keep tears from his eyes. "I hate this," he said, sitting back down.

"I know." He sighed and put his hand on Clark's back. "I know you do, Clark. And I wish there was a way to make it easier. But, the problem is, you're sixteen. And that makes Lex look bad, even if you are over the age of consent. And you don't need the extra scrutiny."

"I know."

"I know you know. And I know it doesn't make anything less frustrating for you. I'm sorry."

Clark put his head back on the table. "I didn't mean for Kyla to find out. I didn't _want_ her to. It just happened. I just." He ran his fingers through his hair and tugged. "There's all this stuff in there. And I'm so scared. There's all this stuff in there. I know my ... I don't know. Ancestors? But I don't even know if they were _mine_ , but people from whatever planet I come from painted those symbols on the wall, and carved the octagon, and I just don't know what's real anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Both you and Lex said they're just stories. But what if they're not?"

Jonathan sighed. Clark heard his chair scrape back and then him rising. His hands came to rest on Clark's shoulders, and he squeezed comfortingly. "Maybe it is destiny. I don't know. I'm a simple man. I don't know how much I buy into destiny other than it's an idea of what we want for ourselves in our future. The vision we have. I never thought of my life in terms of destiny. I didn't want to end up here when I was your age, but once I'd been through the whole thing with Lionel, and I met your mother, this is all I ever wanted. As soon as I met her, I saw myself on this farm, living with her, raising a child, growing old. Was it my destiny? I don't know. I don't care. It was what I wanted."

He sniffed. "Maybe if you had seen it painted on a cave wall, you wouldn't have been so eager for it."

"Maybe not," Jonathan admitted with a laugh. "But I do hope that someone with a voice of reason, my father or someone else I might have listened to, would have told me there was no use despairing my entire life about something I thought was going to happen. You know how powerful the mind is, Clark. The more you're convinced something is going to happen, the more likely it will."

"True." He sniffed again and rubbed his forehead against his arms. "I hate being so different."

"I know. I wish I knew what to say to make things easier for you."

He lifted his head and said, "Thanks, Dad. I ..."

Clark was interrupted by the door flying open and his mother appearing. She was ghost white and shaking, eyes wide and liquid.

"Mom?" He rose.

She blinked and shuddered. "A wolf tried to attack me," she said in a low voice. "In the parking lot."

"Mom." Clark went to her and wrapped his arms around her. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just shaken."

He kissed her hair and held her tightly. "I'm sorry."

She didn't say anything as she clung to him tightly.

"Why would a wolf attack you?" Jonathan said, putting his hands on her shoulders. Then his face changed and he said, "Are there wolves in Kansas? I thought they were extinct."

"They are," Clark said. "But I think it was a wolf. Mom's right. Uh, Chloe and I have this theory." He pulled away and looked from her to his dad. "Kyla's tribe are what's called skinwalkers. They can change shape. We think that maybe Kyla is one of them."

Jonathan frowned and reached for Martha's hand. When she took it, he pulled her to him. "Kyla? Clark, isn't that a little ..."

"Crazy?" Clark finished. He leaned against the table, arms crossing over his chest. "Maybe. But the foreman was killed by a wolf, too. They found the teeth marks. At first we thought maybe it was Joseph who attacked, but then we started thinking. It was one thing to harass the workers or sabotage the trucks or materials or something. That would slow construction until maybe it got to be so much, Lionel wasn't interested anymore. But killing the foreman seems really extreme. It didn't even halt the construction. And before I found out about the wolf, I was thinking maybe the death was an accident. Like Joseph was trying to set a fire, or blow up part of the building or something, but he spilled the gas and a spark hit or _something_. But since the wolf actually attacked the foreman...." He trailed off and shrugged.

"You think Kyla did it?" Jonathan said doubtfully.

Clark nodded. "She's really passionate about things, but not, really, well, bright. She might have thought that killing the foreman--or even attacking him, scaring him so he'd quit--would halt construction. And then, earlier, she was angry at Mom for working for Lionel."

Martha looked at Clark wryly. "I'm beginning to understand how Lex feels. Being judged by the person I work for and not on my own merit. Although," she sighed, "unlike Lex, I chose this. So I deserve to be judged."

"You could quit," Clark said hopefully.

"Well. We'll see." Then she sighed. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to have to talk to her. What she's doing is wrong, and she needs to stop before someone else gets killed."

"Maybe you should talk to Joseph first," Jonathan said. "It might be easier."

Clark nodded. "Yeah. You're probably right." He sighed and scrubbed at his face. "I'll do it tomorrow. I'm too tired to think right now." He rose. "Mind if I go out to my room?"

"Do you want anything to eat first?" his father asked. "I could make something. You too," he added to Martha.

Clark shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not hungry. Maybe later."

His parents exchanged looks before Jonathan said, "Okay. You know where the kitchen is."

He nodded and left the house. The air was crispy and cold outside, just the way he liked it. It made him want to strip down to his boxers and run around, just to feel the wind whip against his body.

His phone rang. "Hello?"

"You okay?" Lex asked.

A smile broke over Clark's face, and the tightness that had formed in his chest relaxed just a bit. "Yeah. Sort of. There's just drama and stuff. I sort of lost it with Dad."

"Is he angry?"

"No. Probably just concerned. It was a temper tantrum. I'm just so sick of secrets."

"Me too."

Clark went around the barn to the basketball hoop. Bales of hay were stacked against the barn wall, and he climbed on them, sitting down. "Lex, make sure you watch yourself, okay? Mom got attacked by a wolf on the way home, and ..."

"Is she all right? Does she need a doctor? A _wolf_?"

"She's fine. I should say tried to attack. This wolf jumped on her car and growled at her. And, yeah, it was a wolf." He quickly explained about skinwalkers and his suspicions about Kyla. "I know you gave the bail money, and she has no reason to attack you, but she might not be rational."

"And she might find out about us and feel the need to secure her destiny."

Clark laughed hollowly. "Yeah. And you might want to keep an eye on Lionel."

"She could eat him. I don't care," Lex said immediately.

"Yeah, I know." Clark smiled fondly. Lex was predictable sometimes. He was always ready to feed his father to the wolves, be it literally or figuratively.

Well. Mostly figuratively. Because Clark knew Lex would fall apart if anything happened to Lionel. And, despite knowing that it was family loyalty, and a need to cling to something familiar, it hurt Clark more than he could say. Not that he wanted to say. Lex had enough crap in his life to worry about without adding on Clark's hatred of his father.

"How was your day?" he finally asked.

Lex sighed. "Not great." There was a pause and a soft grunt before Lex said, "Mark and I got into a fight."

"Why?"

"Promise you won't get upset?"

That couldn't be good. "Okay."

"I ran into Helen Bryce at the Talon. We started talking. Clark, I really like this woman. I just ... there's something about her that's refreshing to talk to."

His stomach turned to lead. Clark swallowed, throat tight. "Helen. Of course."

"I'm not saying I'm attracted to her," Lex hastened to assure him. "Not in that way. Not that it matters; you know that even if I was attracted to her, I'm yours."

"Right. I know that," Clark said, lips numb.

"We were just talking. Then Mark came and invited her to be in our stupid book club, like we were five. Then, when she left, he accused me of wanting to fuck her."

Clark raised an eyebrow. "Really," he said doubtfully. "He just said that right there in the Talon."

Lex cleared his throat. Clark could hear him shifting uncomfortably before he admitted, "Well, no. He didn't _say_ it. But he implied it."

"Why? What were you doing?"

"Nothing! I just gave her my phone number. That's all. And he started giving me disapproving looks and talking about how I've been depressed lately and he doesn't want me to do anything I'll regret."

"Sounds to me like he was just worried," Clark said, picking a piece of straw up from the bale.

Lex snorted and said, "I don't need him to worry."

"He's your friend, Lex. The two of you have a really good time hanging out. Why are you being such an ass?"

"He's the one being an ass. I'm not going to sleep with her. I'm not going to cheat on you. I just .... God, I _hate_ life right now."

Clark sighed and twirled the straw between his fingers. "So do it," he said quietly. He rubbed his forehead. "Here's the thing with Mr. Townsend: maybe you looked like you were giving off signals. Because, Lex, I've seen you with her. If I wasn't in the picture, you'd totally go for her, okay? So maybe that's what Mr. Townsend was seeing. But he doesn't get that we're connected more deeply than just attraction or sex or love or whatever. So he sees something like that, and, knowing how depressed we've both been, he gets worried about what it might mean. Don't let something like this fuck up your friendship."

"I don't like people thinking badly about me."

"He's not."

"But he's judging me."

"Maybe. Or maybe he's just worried. Lex, just talk to him. Call him and ask what happened."

He snorted. "I know what happened. What happened is that he's just like everyone else and can't look past my name and reputation. He can't see me the way I am now."

Clark rolled his eyes and tossed the hay away. "Baby, you're being stupid. It was a misunderstanding, okay? Talk to him, sort it out. I mean, you are stressed right now. I asked you to go against Lionel to bail out a suspected murderer. I'm dumping all this destiny crap on you, along with a girl that may or may not be able to change into a wolf. I think it's safe to say that neither one of us is really at the most stable place in our lives right now."

"Point?"

"My point is we know what's going on in our lives right now to make us snappy and crazy and stuff. We don't know about Mr. Townsend. He's got a sick father, Reynolds as a principal, a bunch of teacher stuff he needs to do, and then you. Maybe his mind is crazy right now, too."

He sighed. "I suppose." He sighed again. "I have to talk to him, huh?"

"I think it would help. But I can't make you do anything." He picked up another piece of hay. "But if it were me and Chloe who'd gotten into a fight, you'd tell me to do the same thing."

"Yeah, I would." There was a short pause before Lex asked, "So. How do you feel about this whole Helen thing?"

Clark's stomach twisted violently, and he closed his eyes. A violent rush of frustration and anger coursed through him. Helen's pretty face danced before his mind's eyes.

"I guess that answers it," Lex said unhappily.

"No. No, it's okay," Clark said. He forced his eyes opened and exhaled shakily. "It is. I trust you. I just ... there's something about her that bugs me. And I don't know if it's something real--like I think she might do something, or she's working for your dad or what--or just ... jealousy. I'm mean, she's totally your type. Pretty, brunette, dark eyes. And, more than that, she's really smart. I mean, sometimes, I wonder how boring I must be."

"You're not boring."

"I'm high school."

"You're also brilliant. Insightful for your age. You don't bore me at all."

"But you need more than me. More than Mr. Townsend and me."

Lex sighed. "Yes."

"Just ... be careful, all right? Make sure you remember how smart she is?"

"Yeah, Clark," Lex promised. "I will."

* * *

Kyla didn't show up until late the next day. By that time, Clark had researched skinwalkers to death, as well as all wolf sightings in and around Grandville, Smallville, and the rest of Lowell county. There were over fifty in all; only two people had been hurt, though. The foreman and his mother.

Needless to say that, by the time Kyla's cheery voice floated into the barn, Clark wasn't in the

Her face was wreathed in smiles as she crossed the floor. "Hey, Clark. I'm really sorry about not returning any of your calls."

Clark crawled from underneath the tractor and put the wrench he was using down. "That's okay. I was just confused. Dad said you called me."

She nodded and picked her way gracefully through the maze of tools on the ground. Then she crouched next to him, a soft smile on her face. "I know. But I got caught up. First I had to work on my stupid homework for next week, and then Henry Small came by to talk to me and Grandpa for a few hours, and then I laid down to rest my eyes. The next thing I knew, it was late." Placing her hand on the side of his face, Kyla leaned in and kissed him. "Sorry."

He kissed her back briefly before pulling away. "It's okay. Really. But I need to talk to you about something."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. It's just .... I've been more open with you than almost anyone ever."

"I know. And it's okay." She slid her arm around his stomach, holding him as she gazed into his face. "I'm not going to tell anyone your secret."

"I know, I trust you." He rested his arm lightly on top of hers. "That's what makes it so much more weird." For a moment, he hesitated, trying to decide how to break this without making her upset. He'd been trying to figure it out all day, and had yet to come up with anything. And now, at zero hour, his words had dried up.

But he had to say something, so he asked, "What do you know about skinwalkers?

A veil neatly fell over her face and she smiled. The smile didn't reach her eyes. "Have you been studying up on me?"

"Sort of. Not you. The Kwatche. Obviously my ... species felt some sort of closeness to your people, and I was hoping to tap into that. Learn what was so special about the Kwatche." He inhaled deeply, hoping that that sounded all right. "The stories say that people can turn into animals. Are they true?"

That veil was still hanging over her, and she seemed preternaturally still. Not quite like Lex, but, at the same time, just as dangerous. Her passion burned closer to the surface than with Lex, so, although she was still, the iciness wasn't there. Just a veneer of bitchiness.

"The visitor from the stars supposedly brought special green stones, and they had really strange effects on the people," Kyla said, reciting the story stiffly. "That's when they said the first skinwalkers appeared."

"So they're real."

A hint of life came back to Kyla's face, and it wasn't pleasant. "Like you said, Clark, they're just stories."

Oh, right. _Now_ they were just stories. "Like the legend of Naman is just a story?"

"No! Yes. I ..." She pulled away, hands throw in the air. "I don't know, Clark. I mean, it's one thing to believe in aliens, it's another to believe human beings can turn into animals, right?"

"Maybe. But then hundreds of cultures all over the world have similar customs and beliefs. Are they _all_ wrong? Besides, those green rocks? I've seen them. They do serious stuff to people. Bad stuff. Mutate them. It's possible that the skinwalker ceremony came out of something that happened when your people were introduced to the rocks." He met her eyes and asked, "Kyla. Are you a skinwalker?"

She laughed breathlessly and looked away. "I can't believe you're doing this!"

"My mother was attacked by a wolf last night. You were totally angry at her yesterday. We fought about it. And then, I found out that the foreman was mauled by a wolf."

"So you think _I_ did it."

"It's not ..."

"God, you think I'm a murderer."

"Kyla, it's just that you and your grandfather would do anything to save those caves. I don't think you're a murderer, but I think things might have gotten out of hand."

"I thought you were on our side," she said, voice low and dangerous.

Clark swallowed and forced himself to remain calm. "Those paintings are very important, but not enough to kill innocent people over. Surely you ..."

"If this is how you think of us, then maybe we weren't meant to be together after all. My grandfather's right. Lionel Luthor controls you all!"

"Kyla," Clark tried, but she wasn't listening. She stormed out of the barn and, a moment later, Clark heard her car start up and roar away.

"Christ," he swore. This was going to go very, _very_ badly.

* * *

The door opened. Half asleep and caught up in dreams of wolves attacking Dad, Lex froze. His body went cold, and, for an instant, the shadows twisted and he was caught back into the nightmare he'd suffered through every night after Mom had died and he'd been sent away to school. He couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything, his body braced for the inevitable, and ...

Clark sat on the bed beside him. "I'm me, Lex," he whispered softly. One hand tentatively rested on his shoulder, stroking through silk. "Sorry I scared you."

Lex went limp with relief and exhaled loud and long. "It's okay. You didn't ..." But it was a lie, and he swallowed it back before it was truly born.

He was kissed lightly on the lips. "You okay?"

He nodded silently and moved over. Clark kicked off his shoes and climbed in bed. His warm body curled around Lex's, one leg draped over his hips, an arm sliding beneath his neck.

"That's twice," he said sleepily, nuzzling Lex beneath his ear.

"Twice?"

"Twice you've frozen on me. Gotten scared."

Lex swallowed, mouth and throat dry. "It's not you," he mouthed, almost silently.

Lips again, this time against the side of his face. "I know. That's what worries me."

"Clark ..."

Clark caught Lex's chin and he kissed Lex hard. "Tell me when it's time, baby," he whispered.

"It's not ..." He broke off and shook his head.

"I know." Clark kissed him again and then laid his head back down on the pillow.

Lex exhaled slowly, pushing the last of the strange nightmare-feeling away. He traced his fingers down Clark's chest and asked, "You okay?"

"Yeah. The sheriff kept me for questioning, and then Mom and Dad wanted to talk to me. They're worried about my reaction to Kyla."

"How ..."

"It doesn't sound as if I'm going to have charges brought against me. Not enough evidence I was there when Kyla was stabbed, and your security saw me here, so .... I think I'm good."

"You have my lawyers if they do."

"I know." Clark's eyes closed and he pulled Lex tighter to him.

"Clark ..."

"Baby, I don't want to talk."

Oh. Okay.

Lex settled in Clark's embrace more comfortably, arms winding around him. He tried to stay awake for Clark, tried to be the strong one and hold him, but, eventually, the heat and comfort overwhelmed him and swept him off to sleep.

He woke when the early morning light played across his face. The room was peaceful, quiet. Clark's chest rose and fell underneath his head in deep, even breaths. One of his large hands was splayed on the small of Lex's back, holding him in place. Cradling him.

Waking next to Clark was a new experience each time. Even after a year, Lex still couldn't quite get over it. There'd never been anyone .... Well, one, but that hadn't been sexual. But other than him, Lex had never slept with anyone. Not like this, not when there was no need for sex before or after. Sometimes before and after.

Waking in a tangle of clothed limbs, heavy with sleep, with no smell of sex, though .... It had never been like this. With anyone.

Lex sighed and snuggled closer to Clark. His eyes slid shut again, drowsy contentment urging him to stay where he was. Never leave.

He wasn't sure how long they lay tangled together before Clark stirred. His breathing quickened, and he pressed each finger, very slowly, against Lex's back. Lex knew next, Clark would wiggle his toes, then clench his calves. From there, he'd roll his head back and forth slowly, before stretching each shoulder by lifting it up to his ears.

Clark went through his routine slowly, in no rush to wake up. Lex was dislodged as Clark stretched his shoulders, but as soon as he was done, he pulled Lex back. Clark's back arched once, popping the bones in his back, and then he relaxed.

"Morning," Lex said.

He sighed and pulled Lex tighter against him. "Hey." Clark's voice was rough and sleep heavy. He turned his head and kissed his forehead.

Lex slid hand across Clark's stomach. "How are you feeling?"

Clark shrugged.

"Do you want ..."

"No, I don't want to talk about it." He rolled over so he was on top of Lex, weight confining and comforting all at once. His mouth, hot and hungry, captured Lex's, tongue invading and claiming.

Lex moaned softly and arched up into Clark. Clark's hair was soft as he carded his fingers through it, petting him.

Without warning, an intense sadness welled in Lex, and he knew it wasn't all his own. It was Clark's loss, filling Lex as Clark allowed it to bleed out of him. And Lex understood. Clark had a connection with Kyla, had understood her on some level.

They'd been friends. And now she was gone, adding yet another tombstone to his vision.

God. He hoped Clark didn't live forever. There had to be an end to it all, even for someone as magnificent as Clark. No one deserved that much pain.

"It's already started, Lex," Clark whispered, his tears falling on Lex's cheeks. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does. And that destiny ... you alone. _That's_ something I can't believe."

"I don't want to believe either. But I don't think .... That doesn't feel like destiny. It feels like reality," Clark said in a heartbroken voice. "I'm just so _tired_ of it all, Lex. Why does everybody leave?"

Lex tightened his fingers. " _I_ won't."

Clark kissed him again. When he broke away, he sat up and turned to Lex's nightstand. The top drawer was unlocked, Lex's collar on top of the sex toys and supplies. Clark pulled it out, frowning.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just too special to sit in there like that."

Lex nodded slowly; it did feel special. That was a toy box, the collar ... wasn't a toy. "I'll buy a box," he promised.

"Fancy. As much money as you want to spend." When Lex looked at him, brows lowered, Clark shrugged. "You're special. You deserve the best."

Ah. Of course. Clark didn't like Lex to spend money on him, necessarily, but only the best for Lex. It was frustrating, because Lex would rather spend it on _Clark_ than on himself, but Lex demurred. Or, he would demur until Clark was living with him and Lex could do what he wanted without Jonathan Kent's disapproving gaze.

Lex reached up and touched Clark's cheek. "You find a box you want and tell me."

That seemed to satisfy Clark. A smile graced his face as he bent over. His lips traced along the vein in Lex's neck, causing goose bumps to break out over his body. Clark nuzzled and teased until Lex's entire body was awake, heart racing, blood pulsing, skin tingling. Then the warm leather encircled his neck, holding him safe.

Clark gave a final kiss to the underside of Lex's jaw. "I've got to go," he breathed against Lex's skin.

"What about breakfast?"

He shook his head. The haunted expression was still in his eyes, but it'd lessened some. "I need to head out to the caves. I'm protesting."

"Alone?"

"I guess." He kissed Lex, first the upper lip, then the bottom. His teeth caught Lex's lower lip and he tugged as he sucked. "Bye, baby."

"Bye," Lex whispered, but he could tell by the breath of air on his face he was alone.

* * *

A headache pushed behind Lex's eyes. The weather was still bothering him for some reason--the dryness made his lungs ache and head feel dried out. Which was not, of course, why he had a headache. That was more due to the stand-off with his father over the caves and Clark. Lex had managed to take them from his father, but, of course, it only piqued Lionel's interest in them more. But that couldn't be helped, so all Lex could do was make sure he knew the laws forward and backwards in his sleep so he was prepared when his father made his move.

So, he sat and read the law books again, highlighting and taking notes, looking up legal jargon, and reciting the statutes that seemed most relevant and important until they were a part of him.

The intercom beeped. "Yes?"

"Sir, Mark Townsend at the gate to see you," the guard said.

Lex hesitated. He didn't want to talk to Mark. Or put up with him. Or see him ever again. Lex was still pissed at him for making assumptions about his interest in Helen. Because, how dare he? Lex's life was Lex's business, not Mark's. He didn't need anyone else judging him.

But, at the same time, he knew he wasn't being fair. He should allow Mark in and talk this over. If Lex wanted to be fair. If he wanted to be reasonable.

Which he didn't. Except ...

Crap. He hated being an adult.

"Send him in," he said. He clicked off the intercom, then reached over and poured himself a glass of orange juice. He'd just finished his second glass when the door opened and Mark walked in.

Mark hesitated at the door, hazel eyes seeking Lex's out. When their eyes met, Mark inhaled deeply and squared his shoulders before continuing into the room.

"Hello, Lex," he said in a subdued voice.

Lex leaned back in his seat, arms draped casually on the armrests. He raised an eyebrow and nodded very fractionally as he replied, "Mark." For a moment, he considered calling him Mr. Townsend, but, again, he was an adult, not a little kid. He'd act it.

Mark's steps halted momentarily. But he pushed on and approached the desk. "We need to talk. About a few things," he said. "First, I want to apologize to you for the other day. I didn't mean to judge you. I honestly don't know what happened. Helen seems like a perfectly fine person, and a good match with you. I mean, she was bright, funny, intelligent."

"I'm aware of all that," Lex said frostily.

"Right." He nodded. Then he took a deep breath. "I was just in such a bad mood that day and when I saw you with her, I. I don't know. She seems like a lovely woman, but I felt like I was interrupting and I'd been looking forward to being with someone who wasn't insane."

Lex's lips twitched. "And you chose me?"

Mark made a face. "I had a run-in with Reynolds in the morning. It started over grades and students, and ended when he tried to bring you up. He doesn't like you, for some reason."

"Yes, I'm aware of that." Fucking bastard. Lex had fucking _revered_ that man, and Reynolds hated him. There was no justice in the world.

Mark raised his eyebrow, mouth falling open half way, as if he were about to say something. Then, he shook his head and waved it away. "Okay. Maybe you'll tell me sometime what that's about Anyway, the students were acting up all day. Just assy teen-age crap that they do sometimes. Then, right as I was leaving lunch, the school counselor cornered me after school to discuss my at-risk students. Mostly Clark. Which drives me insane because Clark isn't at-risk. Not really. He's a brilliant kid with a lot of potential, and if he could kick the depression, there'd be no stopping him. But, really, it's the way Font talks about all the at-risk kids," he said, air quoting "at-risk." "He makes it sound like their problems are personal affronts. Or not really problems at all, because that sort of thing just doesn't happen in this town. That attitude drives me insane, because if you don't want to help kids, why the fuck are you a counselor at a high school?"

"Because they were hiring."

Mark's laugh was sharp and biting. "Right. Exactly. Anyway, after I finally got away from him, I returned to an entire class save two students who didn't do the reading, who aren't taking this seriously, and who couldn't care less. I had a department meeting after school, and my department is full of dumbfucks who are not only dumbfucks, but homophobic and proud."

"And homosexuality came up because ..."

"Because of something on TV or a movie or .... Something. I don't know. It just came up, and I was there an hour trying to accomplish something that would actually benefit my students and, instead, hearing mud and scorn and hatred flung at my lifestyle." He exhaled hard. "So, it'd been a bad day where the only thing I'd looked forward to was getting together with you, but when I got there, I felt like I was unwelcome and it just bugged me." He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I was out of line and I'm sorry. I don't .... I liked her. Not that I talked to her much, but she seemed like a nice woman. But I guess more of my frustration showed than I'd meant." Mark shrugged. "I'm sorry."

Lex bit his lip and fingered the collar hidden underneath his turtleneck and sighed softly. He looked up at Mark and said, "I want to believe that's all it was."

"I swear that was it. I understand the pressure you're under right now. With the press and your business. And I do think you should have more friends than just Clark, Chloe, Lana and me. Helen seems like someone you could really get along well with."

He nodded and then exhaled slowly. "Maybe I was too quick to take offense," he admitted.

Mark gave Lex a half smile. "Maybe we were both hasty that day?"

"Maybe." He paused a moment, heart rate picking up. "Do you want to sit down?" Lex finally asked. He was still ... wary of Mark, but, in the end, Lex did like him. No reason to throw everything away over one movement of bad judgment.

"Sure." Mark took the seat across from him. He was moving a little stiffly, and the tightness around his eyes hadn't eased at all. Something was still wrong, but when he opened his mouth, he only asked, "So, we're okay?"

"We're okay," Lex confirmed, wondering what was going on.

"Good," Mark said slowly. "Because something happened."

Oh, wonderful. "What's happened?"

Mark shifted in his seat, looking nervous. "Your father approached me yesterday. I came over to talk to you, and they let me through even though you weren't here. I was shown into the garden, and he was waiting for me."

Lex went still, features freezing. "Oh?"

"Yes. He chatted with me for a little bit, said he understood I was a friend of yours, and I taught Clark at school. He even mentioned Whitney. I didn't think there was any harm in it. You don't talk about him much, although I understand you don't like him. But he seemed charming enough, so I talked with him."

"Yes," Lex said, voice frosty. "Dad is nothing if not charming."

"We talked for about fifteen minutes before he, I guess, finally got to the point. He mentioned that he was worried about you, and Clark, and that he'd appreciate if I told him anything I'd noticed about the two of you. Anything unusual, out of the ordinary, or that I'd think he wasn't aware of."

Of course. "I see." Lex kept his voice as even as possible as sharp claws of betrayal tore at his chest. "And did he forget to mention you not tell me about your arrangement?"

Mark shook his head and said, "We didn't get that far. I told him I wasn't comfortable with his request, and if you, and especially Clark, wanted him to know anything, you'd tell him."

That was unexpected. In fact, it was the opposite of what anyone in the history of the world had done, and Lex wanted to know what the catch was. "What did he do?"

"He spent a few more minutes trying to convince me it was for the best. He harped on Clark's depression so much, I'm not sure he isn't getting some sort of insider information from Mr. Font. It made me uncomfortable. So I finally told him I wasn't going to do it."

"Which is when he offered you money."

"He did. Ten thousand dollars."

Shit. "You do realize that you risk losing the money by telling me."

Mark blinked, a mask of confusion settling over his face. He was good, managing to look innocent and a little hurt. Just the right amount. The man could make a killing in Hollywood. "I didn't take the money, Lex," Mark said.

And Lex could fly. "Right."

"I _didn't_. I don't want it, not at the expense of my friend. Especially not for something like that. Asking me to exchange information is just, well, creepy. He's not doing it out of concern."

Really, _really_ good. He knew exactly what to say, and made it sound true, too. However ... "No one turns down my dad."

There was a pang in Lex's stomach. Mark looked so perplexed, so confused and hurt that maybe, just maybe ...

No. People didn't turn Lionel down even ....

"I couldn't ever do something like that, Lex. It violates my ethics. Besides, we're friends and accepting would make me a really shitty friend."

Hysterical laughter bubbled in Lex's chest, but he managed to tap it down. Mark sounded so sincere, so truthful, and, to his horror, Lex realized he wanted to believe him. "That's never stopped anyone."

"Then they weren't your friends," Mark replied simply.

He gave up. There was no way to win this conversation. Either Mark was telling the truth, or he was really _that_ good a liar. In either case, it was better that Lex sound like he believe him. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, after all.

"Thank you, Mark, for your honesty," he finally said, raising his head. "I appreciate it."

"Thank you. But, your father. What .... Why ...."

"Don't worry about him. That's just what he does. Sometimes it's to protect me, sometimes to test me, but, right now, I have a feeling it's just for information." He sighed and looked at Mark. "If anything unusual happens to you, tell me. He might try to pressure you into an arrangement."

"How?"

"He has his ways. Just tell me."

"I promise," Mark said. He hesitated. "Are you free to go out for a drink?"

Lex looked down at his legal books. The desire to stay and read was strong, but maybe he did need a break. He wouldn't be much good to Clark if his mind was numb. So ...

"Yeah," he answered. "I am."

* * *

Martha approached Lionel's office with a trembling heart. Because that was what it was doing. It wasn't pounding, it hadn't stopped, it simply sat in her chest and trembled. Shook. Beat in odd pulses, dispersing blood to her numb limbs and heavy body.

The whole of her felt calm. No. Not calm. Subdued. Quiet. Still. She couldn't make a nervous gesture if she tried, and Martha wasn't sure if that was due to fear or acceptance. Or, perhaps, hope.

Maybe Lionel would fire her. That was the best case scenario. Being fired. No longer having to walked through those doors every morning and smile at Lionel as if she were simply a naive farm wife who happened to be a wiz at money and management. No longer have to put up with the subtle way he moved into her space, leaning over her, leaning towards her in such a way that Martha always had her hand on his arm before she even realized what she was doing. No longer have to put up with the way he made her take care of him even though every night she dreamed of ramming that heavy wooden stick up his ass.

Maybe he would fire her. Maybe he would attack her. No. He wouldn't do that. Lionel was too subtle for that and, now that she knew him, she understood Lex's bewilderment last year when he'd arrived at the farm, broken and bloody.

"He wouldn't beat me," he'd said, or something to that effect. Even after Martha had to take him to the hospital the next morning to take care of his back and make sure there were no broken ribs, Lex insisted his father wasn't a violent man.

Well. Lex was right and he was wrong. Lionel _was_ a violent man. Martha knew it. She could still see the youthful anger and violence, the danger, the street thug that lurked underneath the veneer of civilization. The thug came out in flashes, when he was angry or upset. He showed it in the way he clenched his jaw and the fire that sparked in the unseeing eyes. It was evident in the tight, controlled movements he made that displayed his impressive strength, and the way his grip on his cane changed so it looked as if he were holding a bludgeon rather than a cane.

Lionel was a violent man. He simply chose not to be violent, not to act on it. Instead, he played the part of a polite and refined gentleman he'd created sometime in his past.

A man who wouldn't hit his son. A man who wouldn't beat a woman. A man who would, instead, play mind games.

A man who would understand that, for her baby boy, a physical violation was the ultimate mind game.

Just outside his office, Martha stopped and ran her hands over her slacks. Once she was sure she was composed, she entered.

"Hello, Lionel," she said. "I thought we should talk."

Lionel was sitting at the piano, playing softly. When Martha entered the room, he turned his face briefly to her, continuing to play. It was a sweet song, melancholy. Melodic. It tugged at Martha's heart, washed over her, calmed her.

It was music to sooth the savage beast. Which meant Lionel was in a mood.

"Ah, Martha, I've been expecting you," he said. "A conversation does seem to be in order, now, doesn't it?"

She moved closer to him. "Yes." Mind racing, she said, "So. What are we going to do?"

A smile played over his lips. "Do you know why I hired you, Martha?" Lionel asked, still playing.

Martha bit her tongue before answering, "Well. I hope it's because I was best qualified for the job."

"That was part of it, yes. And the other part of it was because I knew that you would always follow your convictions. And that you have a firm moral center that was ... refreshing." He stopped playing and turned to her. "You're a good woman, Martha, and I thought I could use that."

So this was the way he was going to play it. "That's high praise," she said.

"You deserve it," he replied. "You truly are a remarkable woman. And I'm glad to have you in my life." Lionel held out his hand and, after a moment, Martha took it.

"But what about the caves?"

He shrugged in a dismissive gesture. "I hired you for your moral convictions. Why should I be angry if those convictions go against me?"

"Aren't I, as your employee, supposed to put aside those convictions for the sake of the company?"

"Well, yes, normally I would agree. But, perhaps I handled this wrong. Perhaps, when the caves were found, I should have recognized them for what they were: a valuable historical asset. Instead, in my ... arrogance, I allowed myself to ignore their value and, thus, lost them. My fault, not yours. And, as for today, I understand the need to support your son. I do have one of my own."

Right. And the way you treat Lex is completely analogous to the way I treat my son, Martha thought. But she didn't say what she was thinking. Instead, she pulled her hand away and said, "So I take it I still have a job."

He smiled. "Of course. I need a little morality in my life. You bring that, and it would make no sense to fire you now." Lionel reached out and found her wrist. His long fingers closed around it and he said softly, "I haven't had such a constant source of light and goodness in my life since my wife died." His thumb caressed the delicate skin on the inside. "It's refreshing to have found that again."

Martha swallowed hard and tried not to react. Her heart was pounding and face felt flushed. It wasn't attraction. It wasn't arousal. It took everything in her not to pull away, and she only prayed he couldn't tell the strain.

"I'm glad you have," she said, voice hoarse.

Lionel's lips curved. "As am I," he whispered.

* * *

The Wild Coyote was pretty much exactly what Lex had expected. A hick bar in the middle of nowhere, drunk lowlifes ogling women. Women in too-tight clothes wearing too much make-up as they made fools of themselves on the dance floor, drooling over men who'd barely scraped by in high school and were now working at the only place who'd hire them.

Which was, embarrassingly enough, LexCorp.

Lex was glad he was blessed with his memory. Pretty much half the bar was in his employ and he was able to greet all but a handful by their names. Those he couldn't remember, he managed to get out of other people, and, just fifteen minutes after entering, he'd confirmed his status as the Best Boss Ever.

It wasn't that he wanted to be popular, although it was easier to be liked than not, especially with the Clark-scandal trying to break into his life right now. But having the bar on his side made it easier for him and Mark to be there. They seemed to be the only queers in the bar, and while they were both closeted (well, Mark was; Lex's sexuality simply wasn't discussed in Smallville) things still could have gotten uncomfortable really quickly.

But Lex managed to charm his employees, who'd greeted him suspiciously when he and Mark had entered. He'd purchased a round of drinks for the house, punched in a popular song on the jukebox, and had drunk to the health of everyone there. And that had assured that he and Mark were left in relative peace.

"To Smallville," Mark said, raising his drink. He was on his third Scotch and soda; Lex was nursing a barely palatable beer that someone had bought him. "Where even the bars are small."

Lex smiled. "It's not that bad."

Mark rolled his eyes. "Maybe not. But it's a little .... I don't know. Not that I should complain. This is the first time I've been out drinking with a friend since I moved here."

"Mine too."

"Yes, but you are involved with someone. You don't need to go drinking." He shrugged. "I'm not."

He tried to find a way to refute that, but couldn't. Because, Mark was basically right; going out drinking had never been about going out with friends. It'd been about trying to pick up someone. So, instead, he simply turned the conversation back to Mark and asked, "How long have you been single?"

"Too long." He took another drink. "I was in a relationship before I moved out here. They couldn't understand why I was leaving the person I loved to live with a father I barely knew. Turns out I wasn't in love with them, and, well, the blood tie was stronger."

Lex snorted. "I know what you mean. I have issues with Dad. Tons of them. Life would be a lot easier for me if I could cut him out of my life, but no matter how much I want to, I can't."

Mark shifted in his seat and finished his drink. "What are your problems with your dad?"

"I really don't like to talk about them," he said, trying to keep the wariness from his voice. He hated people asking questions about him, even if the person in question was supposed to be his friend. "There are some basic issues with the way he raised me, and the way he tends to confuse our personal life with our business life. Take you, for example. He approached you, tried to pay you for information."

"Because he was worried about you."

"If you believe that, you really are naive.

"I don't. Believe it. Not really. I still can hardly believe that he approached me like that."

"I can. That's Dad." He shrugged. "So, uh, what's your plan right now, anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're not out, and you don't plan to come out. What happens if you meet someone?"

He made a face and shrugged. "I don't know. I've ... gone to Metropolis a few times. Once I went to Grandville. They've got this queer bar at the very edge of town, and we're all, you know. Closeted. It fucking sucks." A smile crossed his face and he said, "One time, this guy tried to pick me up in Fordman's. Right when I first moved here, when I was convinced I'd never get laid again." Mark looked up at met his eyes. "At one point, I was going to make a play for you."

"Really?"

"Yup. Last ... February, I think it was. I got it into my head that I might be able to corner you and convince you to fuck me."

"Why me?"

"Two reasons," Mark said, holding up two fingers. "You are more my type than anyone else in town. And you seemed like a sure bet. Besides, I figured that while you wouldn't want any kind of relationship, you wouldn't be averse to a friendship. And I wanted someone to talk to."

Lex leaned forward, interested despite himself. "What changed your mind?"

"I never worked up the nerve. I went to Metropolis instead, hooked up with this gorgeous guy for the weekend. Then Dad had a heart attack, and that was the last time I've really .... Except for once in the bathroom of the bar in Grandville. But I don't think I've met anyone I could have a relationship with since moving here."

"What do you look for?"

Mark blushed. "You're going to hate me."

"Why?"

"Because my answer is so generic. But its true." Mark smiled and shrugged. "I want someone intelligent, good looking, funny, fun to be around. Sensitive. Easy to talk to, easy to get along with. Kind. And, currently, I'm thinking someone who doesn't want to be with anyone else. I'm in the mood for exclusivity."

"Hmmm," Lex said, raising an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just .... Whitney is newly queer. That might not work for him."

He turned bright red. "Well, uh, it's not like I'm dating him or anything. Or even know him that well." Mark drummed his fingers nervously on the table and avoided Lex's eyes. "I wasn't talking about him."

"Oh, I know you weren't," Lex said, deliberately baiting Mark. It was fun. "Whitney is ... handsome. But sensitive, easy to talk to, intelligent?" He shook his head.

"Which just proves you don't know anything about him," Mark said sharply. "Or you let your jealousy about what happened between him and Clark blind you. Whitney is smart and sensitive and .... Okay, maybe his letters aren't grammatically perfect, and the words aren't all spelled right, but the feeling behind the words are very introspective. They draws me in."

Lex raised both is eyebrows, a smile playing over his lips. He'd been mostly teasing Mark, but there had been a note of seriousness to it. He just hadn't realize how close to the mark he was. "You're seriously into him, aren't you?" Lex said, dropping the taunting tone from his voice.

Mark squeezed his eyes shut. "I feel so pathetic. He's so much younger than me, he's a former student at the school I teach at--and I was teaching while he was a student--I've never really met him, I pretty much only know him through pictures ... and, yes, I'm into him." He shook his head.

"Well," Lex said after a moment's contemplation, "I can't say I know him all that well, and I was teasing you before. When I first met him, he was dating Lana. Clark was in love with her, so I spent a lot of time trying to get them together. And then Clark and I were together, so I lost interest in Whitney until he and Clark started hanging out. And then, again, he didn't really appear on the radar until Clark told me they'd kissed." He suppressed a shudder as memories of that horrible day flashed through him. What with dealing with Pamela dying and Clark finally breaking under the pressure of his near rape, Whitney kissing Clark had barely mattered. "Also," he added, "I can't exactly speak against the age thing. Except to say that he wasn't _your_ student, so I don't see anything inappropriate in it."

"Maybe. It's just ... I don't even know him."

"You can know a lot about someone from their writing. Besides. You wouldn't not date anyone right now if you met someone because of Whitney, would you?"

He thought about it for a moment before shrugging. "I'm not sure. Honestly." He sighed. "I just ..."

"Tricia," Lex interrupted, plastering a genial smile on his face at the petite blonde approaching. "How are you tonight?"

"I'm good, Mr. Luthor," she answered blushingly. "Uh, I noticed you didn't seem to be enjoying your beer, so I thought I'd buy you this." She held out a martini, eyelashes lowered.

Lex sighed internally and took the drink. "Thank you, Tricia. That was thoughtful of you. The beer is fine, but, you're right, I'm in the mood for something that's more ..."

"Sophisticated?" Tricia supplied before he could find a word. Her dark eyes met his and she nodded. "I mean, beer's fine, but you're .... Well. You know. So I thought I'd offer you something you're used to."

"And I really do appreciate it. Allow me to return the favor."

Her eyes went wide. "Oh, no, you don't have to. It's fine, I just ..."

"Please. Let me be a gentleman."

She shook her head. "No, really, it's okay. I'm good for now."

"If you need anything ..."

"I'll let you know," she said, blush deepening. "Thanks." Then she turned and quickly walked across the room, returning to her friends.

"What?" Lex snapped at Mark, sipping the martini.

He shook his head. "Nothing. You just .... You're a man of the people, Lex."

"No, I'm not. I wish they'd all leave me alone. Do you know how frustrating it is to be fawned over and photographed everywhere you go? I'd just like to ... to go out with a friend and be allowed to enjoy their company without distractions or repercussions."

"You talking about Clark?" Mark asked quietly.

Lex sighed and shrugged. "Not exclusively, no. Because I'd like to go out with you to a club and not wind up in the tabloids. For both our sakes. As it is, I'm wary about going anywhere in Metropolis with you, because they're going to make assumptions as to our relationship. It could be damaging for you."

"Thanks for your concern."

"Well," Lex said, eyes on his martini, "you're my friend."

Mark nodded contemplatively. A thoughtful expression was on his face and, after a few minutes, he said, "You know, maybe if you invited Helen along, and we didn't go to a club, we could go out."

"I don't know if I'd want that. I don't know ... where she should fit into my life."

"Have you called her since you last talked?"

"No," Lex said. "I've been distracted by the whole thing with the caves."

"Why don't you call her now? Invite her out for a drink with us. That way we can all get to know each other, and you can begin to see where she fits into your life."

Lex sighed and rubbed his eyes. "The problem is Clark. I don't know what to do about him and her. I can't let her know about us. I can't even believe that _you_ know and haven't said anything."

"I think it's strange," Mark said softly after a moment. His eyes were fastened on the table top as he spoke, as if afraid to look up at Lex. "I don't understand it. I don't understand what brought the two of you together, and it's hard to reconcile the very young man I see in school every day with someone who is in an apparently committed relationship with you. But ... while I don't know everything, I do know that it seems to work. And he's over the age of consent, plus his parents are aware of the situation, so I can only sit back and wait until I understand." He looked back up at Lex. "As for Helen, I think it's possible to let her into your life casually. So casually that she won't notice the inordinate amount of time you spend with Clark."

"I'm not very good at casual," Lex admitted, even as his insides twisted. The truth was, he didn't quite trust Mark. Not really. Before, it had been out of disbelief that someone besides Clark wanted to be friends with him without an ulterior motive; now, it was because he didn't believe that Mark had turned down Lionel. People didn't do that, at least not without serious repercussions, and until those repercussions surfaced, Lex wouldn't be able to trust him.

But, beyond that, he still wanted his and Clark's relationship to be off limits for discussion. Which was difficult because if Mark was being honest with him, then he probably deserved to here at least of some of Clark and Lex's story. Not because Lex owed him anything, but because Mark was in the awkward position of caring about his student, caring about his friend, and not wanting either of them to be hurt. However, if he was lying and _did_ have an ulterior motive, Mark didn't deserve to know a damn thing.

Helen would be even worse. She was judgmental, first off, and already inclined to think poorly of Lex. Plus, she was a scientist. A scientist whom Dr. Sutton had already invited to study samples of Lex's blood, which brought her too close to Clark as it was. But, Lex did like her, and he did want some form of relationship with her.

He just _really_ didn't want her looking at his blood. He'd have to talk to Dr. Sutton about ...

"Ah," he gasped, grabbing his head.

"You okay?" he heard Mark say distantly as his hearing and vision tunneled.

Lex didn't answer. A deluge of alien thoughts had suddenly poured into his brain, and he was fighting to push them out. Eyes covered, he lowered his head to the table, concentrating. The image of two thick shields raising slowly over his brain appeared in his mind's eye. He focused on them, imaging Clark's attacking thoughts as waves of green light that were blocked by the shields as the slid over him, cloaking Lex in blissful darkness and peace.

He didn't know how long it took him. It couldn't have been too long, because when he raised his head, only one or two people were looking over at him. He saw them peripherally, as all his attention was on the figure standing uncertainly at the entrance to the bar.

"I'm okay," Lex said, voice hoarse. "I'll be back in a moment."

Mark glanced behind him at the door, following Lex's eyes. When he turned back, there was a puzzled expression on his face. But he simply nodded and said, "Sure."

He rose and crossed the crowded bar. Clark was looking lost, his eyes huge and teary. He didn't say anything as Lex took him by the arm and led him outside.

"What's wrong?" Lex asked intently.

Clark ran his hand over his face, scrubbing it as if he were trying to clear his brain out. "I .... He's .... I'm sorry, Lex, I just can't .... Couldn't call or ... contact you, I'm all ..."

"Shhhh," Lex soothed, stroking Clark's hair. "Calm down, angel. Just breathe."

He made a sound of distress and covered his face.

"Ah, Clark." Lex put his arm around Clark's shoulders and pulled him close. "Babe, I'm sorry. I know you liked Kyla, even if she frightened you. I'm sorry."

Clark shook his head and made a choking sound.

"What?"

"Not Kyla," he finally gasped, lifting his face. "Whitney." His lower lip trembled. "He's missing."

Lex exhaled hard. "What?"

Clark sniffed. "He's missing in action. They don't know where he is. He might be dead."

Lex closed his eyes and pulled Clark to him. Even with the shields up, Clark's raw pain poured over him and made him ache. And the worst part was, he could only whisper, "I'm sorry, Clark. I'm so sorry," and those words would never, ever, be enough.

Fin

* * *

  



End file.
